THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


O 
O 


* 

£  <*> 

•Jf 


o 
o 

2 


The  Moon  Pool 


The   Moon   Pool 


By 

A.  Merritt 

Author  of  "  The  Ship  of  Ishtar '? 


Liveright  Publishing  Corporation 
New  York 


COPYRIGHT.  1919 

BY 
A.  MERRITT 


Made  in  the  United  States  of  America 


Coilege 
Library 


J 


PS 

3525 


tro 

ROBERT  H.  DAVIS 

IN  APPRECIATION,  AMONG  MANY  OTHER  THINGS,  FOR 
LARRY  O'KEEFE'S  FAITH  IN  THE  FAIRIES 


1802619 


FOREWORD 

The  publication  of  the  following  narrative  of 
Dr.  Walter  T.  Goodwin  has  been  authorized  by  the 
Executive  Council  of  the  International  Association 
of  Science. 

First: 

To  end  officially  what  is  beginning  to  be  called 
the  Throckmartin  Mystery  and  to  kill  the  innuendo 
and  scandalous  suspicions  which  have  threatened  to 
stain  the  reputations  of  Dr.  David  Throckmartin,  his 
youthful  wife,  and  equally  youthful  associate  Dr. 
Charles  Stanton  ever  since  a  tardy  despatch  from 
Melbourne,  Australia,  reported  the  disappearance  of 
the  first  from  a  ship  sailing  to  that  port,  and  the 
subsequent  reports  of  the  disappearance  of  his  wife 
and  associate  from  the  camp  of  their  expedition  in  the 
Caroline  Islands. 

Second: 

Because  the  Executive  Council  have  concluded  that 
Dr.  Goodwin's  experiences  in  his  wholly  heroic  effort 
to  save  the  three,  and  the  lessons  and  warnings  within 
those  experiences,  are  too  important  to  humanity  as  a 
whole  to  be  hidden  away  in  scientific  papers  under 
standable  only  to  the  technically  educated;  or  to  be 
presented  through  the  newspaper  press  in  the  abridged 


Foreword 

and  fragmentary  form  which  the  space  limitations  of 
that  vehicle  make  necessary. 

For  these  reasons  the  Executive  Council  commis 
sioned  Mr.  A.  Merritt  to  transcribe  into  form  to  be 
readily  understood  by  the  layman  the  stenographic 
notes  of  Dr.  Goodwin's  own  report  to  the  Council, 
supplemented  by  further  oral  reminiscences  and  com 
ments  by  Dr.  Goodwin;  this  transcription,  edited  and 
censored  by  the  executive  Council  of  the  Association, 
forms  the  contents  of  this  book. 

Himself  a  member  of  the  Council,  Dr.  Walter 
T.  Goodwin,  Ph.D.,  F.R.G.S.  etc.,  is  without  cavil 
the  foremost  of  American  botanists,  an  observer  of 
international  reputation  and  the  author  of  several 
epochal  treatises  upon  his  chosen  branch  of  science. 
His  story,  amazing  in  the  best  sense  of  that  word  as  it 
may  be,  is  fully  supported  by  proofs  brought  forward 
by  him  and  accepted  by  the  organization  of  which  I 
have  the  honour  to  be  president.  What  matter  has 
been  elided  from  this  popular  presentation — because 
of  the  excessively  menacing  potentialities  it  contains, 
which  unrestricted  dissemination  might  develop — will 
be  dealt  with  in  purely  scientific  pamphlets  of  care 
fully  guarded  circulation. 

THE  INTERNATIONAL  ASSOCIATION  OF  SCIENCE 
Per  J.  B.  K.,  President 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

I. — THE  THING  ON  THE  MOON  PATH     .  i 

II.— "DEAD!    ALL  DEAD!"           .         .  12 

III. — THE  MOON  ROCK          ...  19 

IV. — THE  FIRST  VANISHINGS          .         .31 

V. — INTO  THE  MOON  POOL   ...  39 

VI.— "THE      SHINING      DEVIL   TOOK 

THEM!"    .         .         .         .         .53 

VII.— LARRY  O'KEEFE    ....  69 

VIII.— OLAF'S  STORY       ....  76 

IX. — A  LOST  PAGE  OF  EARTH         .         .  86 

X. — THE  MOON  POOL           ...  96 

XI. — THE  FLAME-TIPPED  SHADOWS          .  115 

XII. — THE  END  OF  THE  JOURNEY     .         .  133 

XIII. — YOLARA,  PRIESTESS  OF  THE  SHINING 

ONE        .....  139 

XIV. — THE  JUSTICE  OF  LORA   .         .         .  148 

XV. — THE  ANGRY,  WHISPERING  GLOBE    .  161 

XVI. — YOLARA  OF  MURIA  vs.  THE  O'KEEFE  173 


Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

XVII. — THE  LEPRECHAUN          .                  .  193 

XVIII. — THE  AMPHITHEATRE  OF  JET    .         .  202 

XIX. — THE  MADNESS  OF  OLAF.         .         .  213 

XX. — THE  TEMPTING  OF  LARRY       .         .  232 

XXI. — LARRY'S  DEFIANCE        .         .         .  252 

XXII. — THE  CASTING  OF  THE  SHADOW         .  266 

XXIII. — DRAGON  WORM  AND  Moss  DEATH  279 

XXIV. — THE  CRIMSON  SEA         .         .         .  294 

XXV. — THE  THREE  SILENT  ONES       .         .  304 

XXVI. — THE  WOOING  OF  LAKLA          .         :  312 

XXVII. — THE  COMING  OF  YOLARA        .         .  330 

XXVIII. — IN  THE  LAIR  OF  THE  DWELLER        .  344 

XXIX. — THE  SHAPING  OF  THE  SHINING  ONE  358 

XXX. — THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  MOON  POOL  370 

XXXI. — LARRY  AND  THE  FROG-MEN    .         .  380 

XXXII.— "YOUR  LOVE;  YOUR  LIVES;  YOUR 

SOULS" 388 

XXXIII.— THE  MEETING  OF  TITANS       .         .  398 

XXXIV. — THE  COMING  OF  THE  SHINING  ONE  .  409 

XXXV.— "LARRY— FAREWELL!"  421 


The  Moon  Pool 


THE  MOON   POOL 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  THING   ON   THE  MOON    PATH 

FOR  two  months  I  had  been  on  the  d'Entre- 
casteaux  Islands  gathering  data  for  the  conclud 
ing  chapters  of  my  book  upon  the  flora  of  the 
volcanic  islands  of  the  South  Pacific.  The  day 
before  I  had  reached  Port  Moresby  and  had  seen 
my  specimens  safely  stored  on  board  the  Southern 
Queen.  As  I  sat  on  the  upper  deck  I  thought, 
with  homesick  mind,  of  the  long  leagues  between 
me  and  Melbourne,  and  the  longer  ones  between 
Melbourne  and  New  York. 

It  was  one  of  Papua's  yellow  mornings  when 
she  shows  herself  in  her  sombrest,  most  baleful 
mood.  The  sky  was  smouldering  ochre.  Over 
the  island  brooded  a  spirit  sullen,  alien,  implacable, 
filled  with  the  threat  of  latent,  malefic  forces 
waiting  to  be  unleashed.  It  seemed  an  emanation 
out  of  the  untamed,  sinister  heart  of  Papua  her 
self — sinister  even  when  she  smiles.  And  now 
and  then,  on  the  wind,  came  a  breath  from  virgin 


2  The  Moon  Pool 

jungles,  laden  with  unfamiliar  odours,  mysterious 
and  menacing. 

It  is  on  such  mornings  that  Papua  whispers  to 
you  of  her  immemorial  ancientness  and  of  her 
power.  And,  as  every  white  man  must,  I  fought 
against  her  spell.  While  I  struggled  I  saw  a  tall 
figure  striding  down  the  pier;  a  Kapa-Kapa  boy 
followed  swinging  a  new  valise.  There  was  some 
thing  familiar  about  the  tall  man.  As  he  reached 
the  gangplank  he  looked  up  straight  into  my  eyes, 
stared  for  a  moment,  then  waved  his  hand. 

And  now  I  knew  him.  It  was  Dr.  David 
Throckmartin — "Throck"  he  was  to  me  always, 
one  of  my  oldest  friends  and,  as  well,  a  mind  of  the 
first  water  whose  power  and  achievements  were 
for  me  a  constant  inspiration  as  they  were,  I  know, 
for  scores  other. 

Coincident  with  my  recognition  came  a  shock  of 
surprise,  definitely — unpleasant.  It  was  Throck- 
martin — but  about  him  was  something  disturb 
ingly  unlike  the  man  I  had  known  long  so  well 
and  to  whom  and  to  whose  little  party  I  had  bid 
den  farewell  less  than  a  month  before  I  myself 
had  sailed  for  these  seas.  He  had  married  only 
a  few  weeks  before,  Edith,  the  daughter  of  Pro 
fessor  William  Frazier,  younger  by  at  least  a  dec 
ade  than  he  but  at  one  with  him  in  his  ideals 
and  as  much  in  love,  if  it  were  possible,  as  Throck 
martin.  By  virtue  of  her  father's  training  a  won 
derful  assistant,  by  virtue  of  her  own  sweet,  sound 
heart  a — I  use  the  word  in  its  olden  sense — lover. 


The  Thing  on  the  Moon  Path      3 

With  his  equally  youthful  associate,  Dr.  Charles 
Stanton  and  a  Swedish  woman,  Thora  Halversen 
who  had  been  Edith  Throckmartin's  nurse  from 
babyhood  they  had  set  forth  for  the  Nan- 
Matal,  that  extraordinary  group  of  island  ruins 
clustered  along  the  eastern  shore  of  Ponape  in 
the  Carolines. 

I  knew  that  he  had  planned  to  spend  at  least  a 
year  among  these  ruins,  not  only  of  Ponape  but 
of  Lele — twin  centres  of  a  colossal  riddle  of  human 
ity,  a  weird  flower  of  civilization  that  blossomed 
ages  before  the  seeds  of  Egypt  were  sown;  of 
whose  arts  we  know  little  enough  and  of  whose 
science  nothing.  He  had  carried  with  him  un 
usually  complete  equipment  for  the  work  he  had 
expected  to  do  and  which,  he  hoped,  would  be  his 
monument. 

What  then  had  brought  Throckmartin  to  Port 
Moresby,  and  what  was  that  change  I  had  sensed 
in  him? 

Hurrying  down  to  the  lower  deck  I  found  him 
with  the  purser.  As  I  spoke  he  turned,  thrust  out 
to  me  an  eager  hand — and  then  I  saw  what  was 
that  difference  that  had  so  moved  me.  He  knew, 
of  course  by  my  silence  and  involuntary  shrinking 
the  shock  my  closer  look  had  given  me.  His  eyes 
rilled;  he  turned  brusquely  from  the  purser,  hesi 
tated — then  hurried  off  to  his  stateroom. 

'"E  looks  rather  queer — eh?"  said  the  purser. 
"Know  'im  well,  sir?  Seems  to  'ave  given  you 
quite  a  start." 


4  The  Moon  Pool 

I  made  some  reply  and  went  slowly  up  to  my 
chair.  There  I  sat,  composed  my  mind  and  tried 
to  define  what  it  was  that  had  shaken  me  so. 
Now  it  came  to  me.  The  old  Throckmartin  was 
on  the  eve  of  his  venture  just  turned  forty,  lithe, 
erect,  muscular;  his  controlling  expression  one  of 
enthusiasm,  of  intellectual  keenness,  of — what 
shall  I  say — expectant  search.  His  always  ques 
tioning  brain  had  stamped  its  vigor  upon  his 
face. 

But  the  Throckmartin  I  had  seen  below  was 
one  who  had  borne  some  searing  shock  of  mingled 
rapture  and  horror;  some  soul  cataclysm  that  in  its 
climax  had  remoulded,  deep  from  within,  his  face, 
setting  on  it  seal  of  wedded  ecstasy  and  despair; 
as  though  indeed  these  two  had  come  to  him  hand 
in  hand,  taken  possession  of  him  and  departing 
left  behind,  ineradicably,  their  linked  shadows! 

Yes — it  was  that  which  appalled.  For  how 
could  rapture  and  horror,  Heaven  and  Hell  mix, 
clasp  hands — kiss? 

Yet  these  were  what  in  closest  embrace  lay  on 
Throckmartin 's  face! 

Deep  in  thought,  subconsciously  with  relief, 
I  watched  the  shore  line  sink  behind;  welcomed 
the  touch  of  the  wind  of  the  free  seas.  I  had 
hoped,  and  within  the  hope  was  an  inexplicable 
shrinking  that  I  would  meet  Throckmartin  at 
lunch.  He  did  not  come  down,  and  I  was  sensible 
of  deliverance  within  my  disappointment.  All 
that  afternoon  I  lounged  about  uneasily  but  still 


The  Thing  on  the  Moon  Path      5 

he  kept  to  his  cabin — and  within  me  was  no 
strength  to  summon  him.  Nor  did  he  appear 
at  dinner. 

Dusk  and  night  fell  swiftly.  I  was  warm  and 
went  back  to  my  deck-chair.  The  Southern 
Queen  was  rolling  to  a  disquieting  swell  and  I  had 
the  place  to  myself. 

Over  the  heavens  was  a  canopy  of  cloud,  glowing 
faintly  and  testifying  to  the  moon  riding  behind 
it.  There  was  much  phosphorescence.  Fitfully 
before  the  ship  and  at  her  sides  arose  those  strange 
little  swirls  of  mist  that  swirl  up  from  the  Southern 
Ocean  like  breath  of  sea  monsters,  whirl  for  an 
instant  and  disappear. 

Suddenly  the  deck  door  opened  and  through  it 
came  Throckmartin.  He  paused  uncertainly, 
looked  up  at  the  sky  with  a  curiously  eager,  intent 
gaze,  hesitated,  then  closed  the  door  behind 
him. 

"Throck,"  I  called.     "Come!    It's  Goodwin." 

He  made  his  way  to  me. 

"Throck,"  I  said,  wasting  no  time  in  prelimi 
naries.  "What's  wrong?  Can  I  help  you?" 

I  felt  his  body  grow  tense. 

"I'm  going  to  Melbourne,  Goodwin,"  he  an 
swered.  "I  need  a  few  things — need  them  ur 
gently.  And  more  men — white  men " 

He  stopped  abruptly;  rose  from  his  chair, 
gazed  intently  toward  the  north.  I  followed  his 
gaze.  Far,  far  away  the  moon  had  broken 
through  the  clouds.  Almost  on  the  horizon,  you 


6  The  Moon  Pool 

could  see  the  faint  luminescence  of  it  upon  the 
smooth  sea.  The  distant  patch  of  light  quivered 
and  shook.  The  clouds  thickened  again  and  it 
was  gone.  The  ship  raced  on  southward,  swiftly. 

Throckmartin  dropped  into  his  chair.  He 
lighted  a  cigarette  with  a  hand  that  trembled; 
then  turned  to  me  with  abrupt  resolution. 

"Goodwin,"  he  said.  "I  do  need  help.  If  ever 
man  needed  it,  I  do.  Goodwin — can  you  imagine 
yourself  in  another  world,  alien,  unfamiliar,  a 
world  of  terror,  whose  unknown  joy  is  its  greatest 
terror  of  all;  you  all  alone  there,  a  stranger!  As 
such  a  man  would  need  help,  so  I  need ' 

He  paused  abruptly  and  arose;  the  cigarette 
dropped  from  his  fingers.  The  moon  had  again 
broken  through  the  clouds,  and  this  time  much 
nearer.  Not  a  mile  away  was  the  patch  of  light 
that  it  threw  upon  the  waves.  Back  of  it,  to  the 
rim  of  the  sea  was  a  lane  of  moonlight ;  a  gigantic 
gleaming  serpent  racing  over  the  edge  of  the  world 
straight  and  surely  toward  the  ship. 

Throckmartin  stiffened  to  it  as  a  pointer  does 
to  a  hidden  covey.  To  me  from  him  pulsed  a 
thrill  of  horror — but  horror  tinged  with  an  unfami 
liar,  an  infernal  joy.  It  came  to  me  and  passed 
away — leaving  me  trembling  with  its  shock  of 
bitter  sweet. 

He  bent  forward,  all  his  soul  in  his  eyes.  The 
moon  path  swept  closer,  closer  still.  It  was  now 
less  than  half  a  mile  away.  From  it  the  ship  fled 
— almost  as  though  pursued.  Down  upon  it, 


The  Thing  on  the  Moon  Path     7 

swift  and  straight,  a  radiant  torrent  cleaving  the 
waves,  raced  the  moon  stream. 

"Good  God!"  breathed  Throckmartin,  and  if 
ever  the  words  were  a  prayer  and  an  invocation 
they  were. 

And  then,  for  the  first  time — I  saw — it  I 

The  moon  path  stretched  to  the  horizon  and 
was  bordered  by  darkness.  It  was  as  though  the 
clouds  above  had  been  parted  to  form  a  lane — 
drawn  aside  like  curtains  or  as  the  waters  of  the 
Red  Sea  were  held  back  to  let  the  hosts  of  Israel 
through.  On  each  side  of  the  stream  was  the 
black  shadow  cast  by  the  folds  of  the  high  cano 
pies.  And  straight  as  a  road  between  the  opaque 
walls  gleamed,  shimmered,  and  danced  the  shining, 
racing,  rapids  of  the  moonlight. 

Far,  it  seemed  immeasurably  far,  along  this 
stream  of  silver  fire  I  sensed,  rather  than  saw, 
something  coming.  It  drew  first  into  sight  as  a 
deeper  glow  within  the  light.  On  and  on  it  swept 
toward  us — an  opalescent  mistiness  that  sped 
with  the  suggestion  of  some  winged  creature  in 
arrowed  flight.  Dimly  there  crept  into  my  mind 
memory  of  the  Dyak  legend  of  the  winged  mes 
senger  of  Buddha — the  Akla  bird  whose  feathers 
are  woven  of  the  moon  rays,  whose  heart  is  a 
living  opal,  whose  wings  in  flight  echo  the  crystal 
clear  music  of  the  white  stars — but  whose  beak  is 
of  frozen  flame  and  shreds  the  souls  of  unbelievers. 

Closer  it  drew  and  now  there  came  to  me 
sweet,  insistent  tinklings — like  Dizzicati  on  vio- 


8  The  Moon  Pool 

Ens  of  glass;  crystal  clear;  diamonds  melting  into 
sounds ! 

Now  the  Thing  was  close  to  the  end  of  the  white 
path;  close  up  to  the  barrier  of  darkness  still 
between  the  ship  and  the  sparkling  head  of  the 
moon  stream.  Now  it  beat  up  against  that  bar 
rier  as  a  bird  against  the  bars  of  its  cage.  It 
whirled  with  shimmering  plumes,  with  swirls  of 
lacy  light,  with  spirals  of  living  vapour.  It  held 
within  it  odd,  unfamiliar  gleams  as  of  shifting 
mother-of-pearl.  Coruscations  and  glittering  atoms 
drifted  through  it  as  though  it  drew  them  from  the 
rays  that  bathed  it. 

Nearer  and  nearer  it  came,  borne  on  the  spar 
kling  waves,  and  ever  thinner  shrank  the  protecting 
wall  of  shadow  between  it  and  us.  Within  the 
mistiness  was  a  core,  a  nucleus  of  intenser  light — 
veined,  opaline,  effulgent,  intensely  alive.  And 
above  it,  tangled  in  the  plumes  and  spirals  that 
throbbed  and  whirled  were  seven  glowing  lights. 

Through  all  the  incessant  but  strangely  ordered 
movement  of  the — thing — these  lights  held  firm 
and  steady.  They  were  seven — like  seven  little 
moons.  One  was  of  a  pearly  pink,  one  of  delicate 
nacreous  blue,  one  of  lambent  saffron,  one  of  the 
emerald  you  see  in  the  shallow  waters  of  tropic 
isles;  a  deathly  white;  a  ghostly  amethyst;  and 
one  of  the  silver  that  is  seen  only  when  the  flying 
fish  leap  beneath  the  moon. 

The  tinkling  music  was  louder  still.  It  pierced 
the  ears  with  a  shower  of  tiny  lances ;  it  made  the 


The  Thing  on  the  Moon  Path     9 

heart  beat  jubilantly — and  checked  it  dolorously. 
It  closed  the  throat  with  a  throb  of  rapture  and 
gripped  it  tight  with  the  hand  of  infinite  sorrow ! 

Came  to  me  now  a  murmuring  cry,  stilling  the 
crystal  notes.  It  was  articulate — but  as  though 
from  something  utterly  foreign  to  this  world. 
The  ear  took  the  cry  and  translated  with  conscious 
labour  into  the  sounds  of  earth.  And  even  as  it 
compassed,  the  brain  shrank  from  it  irresistibly, 
and  simultaneously  it  seemed  reached  toward  it 
with  irresistible  eagerness. 

Throckmartin  strode  toward  the  front  of  the 
deck,  straight  toward  the  vision,  now  but  a  few 
yards  away  from  the  stern.  His  face  had  lost  all 
human  semblance.  Utter  agony  and  utter  ecstasy 
— there  they  were  side  by  side,  not  resisting  each 
other;  unholy  inhuman  companions  blending  into  a 
look  that  none  of  God's  creatures  should  wear — and 
deep,  deep  as  his  soul!  A  devil  and  a  God  dwel 
ling  harmoniously  side  by  side!  So  must  Satan, 
newly  fallen,  still  divine,  seeing  heaven  and  con 
templating  hell,  have  appeared. 

And  then — swiftly  the  moon  path  faded !  The 
clouds  swept  over  the  sky  as  though  a  hand  had 
drawn  them  together.  Up  from  the  south  came 
a  roaring  squall.  As  the  moon  vanished  what  I 
had  seen  vanished  with  it — blotted  out  as  an  image 
on  a  magic  lantern;  the  tinkling  ceased  abruptly 
— leaving  a  silence  like  that  which  follows  an 
abrupt  thunder  clap.  There  was  nothing  about 
us  but  silence  and  blackness ! 


io  The  Moon  Pool 

Through  me  passed  a  trembling  as  one  who  has 
stood  on  the  very  verge  of  the  gulf  wherein  the 
men  of  the  Louisades  say  lurks  the  fisher  of  the 
souls  of  men,  and  has  been  plucked  back  by 
sheerest  chance. 

Throckmartin  passed  an  arm  around  me. 

"It  is  as  I  thought,"  he  said.  In  his  voice  was 
a  new  note;  the  calm  certainty  that  has  swept 
aside  a  waiting  terror  of  the  unknown.  "Now  I 
know!  Come  with  me  to  my  cabin,  old  friend. 
For  now  that  you  too  have  seen  I  can  tell  you" — 
he  hesitated — "what  it  was  you  saw,"  he  ended. 

As  we  passed  through  the  door  we  met  the  ship's 
first  officer.  Throckmartin  composed  his  face 
into  at  least  a  semblance  of  normality. 

"Going  to  have  much  of  a  storm?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  the  mate.  "Probably  all  the  way 
to  Melbourne." 

Throckmartin  straightened  as  though  with  a  new 
thought.  He  gripped  the  officer's  sleeve  eagerly. 

"You  mean  at  least  cloudy  weather — for" — he 
hesitated — "for  the  next  three  nights,  say?" 

"And  for  three  more,"  replied  the  mate. 

"Thank  God!"  cried  Throckmartin,  and  I  think 
I  never  heard  such  relief  and  hope  as  was  in  his 
voice. 

The  sailor  stood  amazed.  "Thank  God?"  he 
repeated.  ' '  Thank — what  d'ye  mean  ? ' ' 

But  Throckmartin  was  moving  onward  to  his 
cabin.  I  started  to  follow.  The  first  officer 
stopped  me. 


The  Thing  on  the  Moon  Path    n 

"Your  friend,"  he  said,  "is  he  ill?" 
"The  sea!"  I  answered  hurriedly.     "He's  not 
used  to  it.     I  am  going  to  look  after  him." 

Doubt  and  disbelief  were  plain  in  the  seaman's 
eyes  but  I  hurried  on.  For  I  knew  now  that 
Throckmartin  was  ill  indeed — but  with  a  sick 
ness  the  ship's  doctor  nor  any  other  could  heal. 


CHAPTER  II 
"DEAD!    ALL  DEAD!" 

HE  was  sitting,  face  in  hands,  on  the  side  of  his 
berth  as  I  entered.  He  had  taken  off  his  coat. 

"Throck,"  I  cried.  "What  was  it?  What  are 
you  flying  from,  man?  Where  is  your  wife — and 
Stanton?" 

' '  Dead ! "  he  replied  monotonously.  ' '  Dead !  AH 
dead!"  Then  as  I  recoiled  from  him — "All  dead. 
Edith,  Stanton,  Thora — dead — or  worse.  And 
Edith  in  the  Moon  Pool — with  them — drawn  by 
what  you  saw  on  the  moon  path — that  has  put 
its  brand  upon  me — and  follows  me!" 

He  ripped  open  his  shirt. 

"Look  at  this,"  he  said.  Around  his  chest, 
above  his  heart,  the  skin  was  white  as  pearl.  This 
whiteness  was  sharply  defined  against  the  healthy 
tint  of  the  body.  It  circled  him  with  an  even 
cincture  about  two  inches  wide. 

"Burn  it!"  he  said,  and  offered  me  his  cigarette. 
I  drew  back.  He  gestured  —  peremptorily.  I 
pressed  the  glowing  end  of  the  cigarette  into  the 
ribbon  of  white  flesh.  He  did  not  flinch  nor  was 

12 


Dead!   All  Dead)  13 

there  odour  of  burning  nor,  as  I  drew  the  little 
cylinder  away,  any  mark  upon  the  whiteness. 

"Feel  it!"  he  commanded  again.  I  placed  my 
fingers  upon  the  band.  It  was  cold — like  frozen 
marble. 

He  drew  his  shirt  about  him. 

"Two  things  you  have  seen,"  he  said.  "It — 
and  its  mark.  Seeing,  you  must  believe  my  story. 
Goodwin,  I  tell  you  again  that  my  wife  is  dead — 
or  worse — I  do  not  know;  the  prey  of — what  you 
saw;  so,  too,  is  Stanton;  so  Thora.  How " 

Tears  rolled  down  the  seared  face. 

"Why  did  God  let  it  conquer  us?  Why  did  He 
let  it  take  my  Edith?"  he  cried  in  utter  bitter 
ness.  "Are  there  things  stronger  than  God,  do 
you  think,  Walter?" 

I  hesitated. 

"Are  there?  Are  there?"  His  wild  eyes 
searched  me. 

"I  do  not  know  just  how  you  define  God,"  I 
managed  at  last  through  my  astonishment  to 
make  answer.  "If  you  mean  the  will  to  know, 
working  through  science " 

He  waved  me  aside  impatiently. 

"Science,"  he  said.  "What  is  our  science 
against — that?  Or  against  the  science  of  what 
ever  devils  that  made  it — or  made  the  way  for  it 
to  enter  this  world  of  ours?" 

With  an  effort  he  regained  control. 

"Goodwin,"  he  said,  "do  you  know  at  all  of 
the  ruins  on  the  Carolines;  the  cyclopean,  mego- 


14  The  Moon  Pool 

lithic  cities  and  harbours  of  Ponape  and  Lele, 
of  Kusaie,  of  Ruk  and  Hogolu,  and  a  score  of  other 
islets  there?  Particularly,  do  you  know  of  the 
Nan-Matal  and  the  Metalanim?" 

"Of  the  Metalanim  I  have  heard  and  seen  photo 
graphs,"  I  said.  "They  call  it,  don't  they,  the 
Lost  Venice  of  the  Pacific?" 

"Look  at  this  map,"  said  Throckmartin. 
"That,"  he  went  on,  "is  Christian's  chart  of  Meta 
lanim  harbour  and  the  Nan-Matal.  Do  you  see 
the  rectangles  marked  Nan-Tauach?" 

"Yes,"  I  said. 

"There,"  he  said,  "under  those  walls  is  the 
Moon  Pool  and  the  seven  gleaming  lights  that 
raise  the  Dweller  in  the  Pool,  and  the  altar  and 
shrine  of  the  Dweller.  And  there  in  the  Moon 
Pool  with  it  lie  Edith  and  Stanton  and  Thora." 

"The  Dweller  in  the  Moon  Pool?"  I  repeated 
half -incredulously. 

"The  Thing  you  saw,"  said  Throckmartin 
solemnly. 

A  solid  sheet  of  rain  swept  the  ports,  and  the 
Southern  Queen  began  to  roll  on  the  rising  swells. 
Throckmartin  drew  another  deep  breath  of  relief, 
and  drawing  aside  a  curtain  peered  out  into  the 
night.  Its  blackness  seemed  to  reassure  him.  At 
any  rate,  when  he  sat  again  he  was  entirely 
calm. 

"There  are  no  more  wonderful  ruins  in  the 
world,"  he  began  almost  casually.  "They  take 
in  some  fifty  islets  and  cover  with  their  inter- 


Dead!   All  Dead!  15 

secting  canals  and  lagoons  about  twelve  square 
miles.  Who  built  them?  None  knows.  When 
were  they  built?  Ages  before  the  memory 
of  present  man,  that  is  sure.  Ten  thousand, 
twenty  thousand,  a  hundred  thousand  years  ago 
— the  last  more  likely. 

"All  these  islets,  Walter,  are  squared,  and  their 
shores  are  frowning  sea-walls  of  gigantic  basalt 
blocks  hewn  and  put  in  place  by  the  hands  of 
ancient  man.  Each  inner  water-front  is  faced  with  a 
terrace  of  those  basalt  blocks  which  stand  out  six 
feet  above  the  shallow  canals  that  meander  between 
them.  On  the  islets  behind  these  walls  are  time- 
shattered  fortresses,  palaces,  terraces,  pyramids; 
immense  courtyards  strewn  with  ruins — and  all 
so  old  that  they  seem  to  wither  the  eyes  of  those 
who  look  on  them. 

"There  has  been  a  great  subsidence.  You  can 
stand  out  of  Metalanim  harbour  for  three  miles 
and  look  down  upon  the  tops  of  similar  monolithic 
structures  and  walls  twenty  feet  below  you  in  the 
water. 

"And  all  about,  strung  on  their  canals,  are  the 
bulwarked  islets  with  their  enigmatic  walls  peer 
ing  through  the  dense  growths  of  mangroves — 
dead,  deserted  for  incalculable  ages;  shunned  by 
those  who  live  near. 

"You  as  a  botanist  are  familiar  with  the  evi 
dence  that  a  vast  shadowy  continent  existed  in 
the  Pacific — a  continent  that  was  not  rent  asunder 
by  volcanic  forces  as  was  that  legendary  one  of 


16  The  Moon  Pool 

Atlantis  in  the  Eastern  Ocean.1  My  work  in 
Java,  in  Papua,  and  in  the  Ladrones  had  set  my 
mind  upon  this  Pacific  lost  land.  Just  as  the 
Azores  are  believed  to  be  the  last  high  peaks  of 
Atlantis,  so  hints  came  to  me  steadily  that  Ponape 
and  Lele  and  their  basalt  bulwarked  islets  were 
the  last  points  of  the  slowly  sunken  western  land 
clinging  still  to  the  sunlight,  and  had  been  the 
last  refuge  and  sacred  places  of  the  rulers  of  that 
race  which  had  lost  their  immemorial  home  under 
the  rising  waters  of  the  Pacific. 

"I  believed  that  under  these  ruins  I  might  find 
the  evidence  that  I  sought. 

"My — my  wife  and  I  had  talked  before  we  were 
married  of  making  this  our  great  work.  After 
the  honeymoon  we  prepared  for  the  expedition. 
Stanton  was  as  enthusiastic  as  ourselves.  We 
sailed,  as  you  know,  last  May  for  fulfilment  of  my 
dreams. 

"At  Ponape  we  selected,  not  without  difficulty, 
workmen  to  help  us — diggers.  I  had  to  make 
extraordinary  inducements  before  I  could  get 
together  my  force.  Their  beliefs  are  gloomy,  these 
Ponapeans.  They  people  their  swamps,  their 
forests,  their  mountains,  and  shores,  with  malig 
nant  spirits — ani  they  call  them.  And  they  are 

1  For  more  detailed  observations  on  these  points  refer  to  G. 
Volkens,  Uber  die  Karolinen  Insel  Yap,  in  Verhandlungen 
Gesellschaft  Erdkunde  Berlin,  xxvii  (1901) ;  J.  S.  Kubary,  Eth- 
nographische  Beitrage  zur  Kentniss  des  Karolinen  Archipel 
(Leiden,  1889-1892):  De  Abrade  Historia  del  Conflicto  de  las 
Carolina*,  etc.  (Madrid,  1886).  W.  T.  G. 


Dead!   All  Dead!  17 

afraid — bitterly  afraid  of  the  isles  of  ruins  and 
what  they  think  the  ruins  hide.  I  do  not  wonder 
— now! 

"When  they  were  told  where  they  were  to  go, 
and  how  long  we  expected  to  stay,  they  murmured. 
Those  who,  at  last,  were  tempted  made  what  I 
thought  then  merely  a  superstitious  proviso  that 
they  were  to  be  allowed  to  go  away  on  the  three 
nights  of  the  full  moon.  Would  to  God  we  had 
heeded  them  and  gone  too!" 

"We  passed  into  Metalanim  harbour.  Off  to 
our  left — a  mile  away  arose  a  massive  quadrangle. 
Its  walls  were  all  of  forty  feet  high  and  hundreds 
of  feet  on  each  side.  As  we  drew  by  our  natives 
grew  very  silent;  watched  it  furtively,  fearfully. 
I  knew  it  for  the  ruins  that  are  called  Nan-Tauach, 
the  'place  of  frowning  walls.'  And  at  the  silence 
of  my  men  I  recalled  what  Christian  had  written 
of  this  place;  of  how  he  had  come  upon  its  'ancient 
platforms  and  tetragonal  enclosures  of  stonework; 
its  wonder  of  tortuous  alleyways  and  labyrinth 
of  shallow  canals;  grim  masses  of  stonework 
peering  out  from  behind  verdant  screens;  cyclo- 
pean  barricades,'  and  of  how,  when  he  had  turned 
'into  its  ghostly  shadows,  straightway  the  merri 
ment  of  guides  was  hushed  and  conversation  died 
down  to  whispers." 

He  was  silent  for  a  little  time. 

"Of  course  I  wanted  to  pitch  our  camp  there," 
he  went  on  again  quietly,  "but  I  soon  gave  up 
that  idea.  The  natives  were  panic-stricken — 


i8  The  Moon  Pool 

threatened  to  turn  back.  'No,'  they  said,  'too 
great  ani  there.  We  go  to  any  other  place — but 
not  there. ' 

"We  finally  picked  for  our  base  the  islet  called 
Uschen-Tau.  It  was  close  to  the  isle  of  desire, 
but  far  enough  away  from  it  to  satisfy  our  men. 
There  was  an  excellent  camping-place  and  a  spring 
of  fresh  water.  We  pitched  our  tents,  and  in  a 
couple  of  days  the  work  was  in  full  swing." 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  MOON   ROCK 

"I  DO  not  intend  to  tell  you  now,"  Throckmartin 
continued,  "the  results  of  the  next  two  weeks, 
nor  of  what  we  found.  Later — if  I  am  allowed,  I 
will  lay  all  that  before  you.  It  is  sufficient  to 
say  that  at  the  end  of  those  two  weeks  I  had 
found  confirmation  for  many  of  my  theories. 

"The  place,  for  all  its  decay  and  desolation, 
had  not  infected  us  with  any  touch  of  morbidity 
— that  is  not  Edith,  Stanton,  or  myself.  But 
Thora  was  very  unhappy.  She  was  a  Swede,  as 
you  know,  and  in  her  blood  ran  the  beliefs  and 
superstitions  of  the  Northland — some  of  them  so 
strangely  akin  to  those  of  this  far  southern  land; 
beliefs  of  spirits  of  mountain  and  forest  and  water 
werewolves  and  beings  malign.  From  the  first 
she  showed  a  curious  sensitivity  to  what,  I  suppose, 
may  be  called  the  'influences'  of  the  place.  She 
said  it  'smelled'  of  ghosts  and  warlocks. 

"I  laughed  at  her  then 

"Two  weeks  slipped  by,  and  at  their  end  the 
spokesman  for  our  natives  came  to  us.  The  next 

19 


20  The  Moon  Pool 

night  was  the  full  of  the  moon,  he  said.  He  re 
minded  me  of  my  promise.  They  would  go  back 
to  their  village  in  the  morning ;  they  would  return 
after  the  third  night,  when  the  moon  had  begun 
to  wane.  They  left  us  sundry  charms  for  our 
'protection,'  and  solemnly  cautioned  us  to  keep 
as  far  away  as  possible  from  Nan-Tauach  during 
their  absence.  Half -exasperated,  half-amused  I 
watched  them  go. 

' '  No  work  could  be  done  without  them,  of  course, 
so  we  decided  to  spend  the  days  of  their  absence 
junketing  about  the  southern  islets  of  the  group. 
We  marked  down  several  spots  for  subsequent 
exploration,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day 
set  forth  along  the  east  face  of  the  breakwater  for 
our  camp  on  Uschen-Tau,  planning  to  have  every 
thing  in  readiness  for  the  return  of  our  men  the 
next  day. 

"We  landed  just  before  dusk,  tired  and  ready 
for  our  cots.  It  was  only  a  little  after  ten  o'clock 
that  Edith  awakened  me. 

"  'Listen!'  she  said.  'Lean  over  with  your 
ear  close  to  the  ground ! ' 

"I  did  so,  and  seemed  to  hear,  far,  far  below, 
as  though  coming  up  from  great  distances,  a  faint 
chanting.  It  gathered  strength,  died  down,  ended; 
began,  gathered  volume,  faded  away  into  silence. 

"  'It's  the  waves  rolling  on  rocks  somewhere,' 
I  said.  'We're  probably  over  some  ledge  of  rock 
that  carries  the  sound. ' 

"  'It's  the  first  time  I've  heard   it,'  replied 


The  Moon  Rock  21 

my  wife  doubtfully.  We  listened  again.  Then 
through  the  dim  rhythms,  deep  beneath  us,  an 
other  sound  came.  It  drifted  across  the  lagoon 
that  lay  between  us  and  Nan-Tauach  in  little 
tinkling  waves.  It  was  music — of  a  sort;  I  won't 
describe  the  strange  effect  it  had  upon  me.  You've 
felt  it " 

"You  mean  on  the  deck?"  I  asked.  Throck- 
martin  nodded. 

"I  went  to  the  flap  of  the  tent,"  he  continued, 
4 '  and  peered  out.  As  I  did  so  Stanton  lifted  his  flap 
and  walked  out  into  the  moonlight,  looking  over 
to  the  other  islet  and  listening.  I  called  to  him. 

"  'That's  the  queerest  sound!'  he  said.  He 
listened  again.  'Crystalline!  Like  little  notes 
of  translucent  glass.  Like  the  bells  of  crystal 
on  the  sistrums  of  Isis  at  Dendarah  Temple, '  he 
added  half -dreamily.  We  gazed  intently  at  the 
island.  Suddenly,  on  the  sea-wall,  moving  slowly, 
rhythmically,  we  saw  a  little  group  of  lights. 
Stanton  laughed. 

"  'The  beggars!'  he  exclaimed.  'That's  why 
they  wanted  to  get  away,  is  it?  Don't  you  see, 
Dave,  it's  some  sort  of  a  festival — rites  of  some 
kind  that  they  hold  during  the  full  moon !  That's 
why  they  were  so  eager  to  have  us  keep  away,  too. ' 

"The  explanation  seemed  good.  I  felt  a  curious 
sense  of  relief,  although  I  had  not  been  sensible 
of  any  oppression. 

"  'Let's  slip  over,'  suggested  Stanton — but  I 
would  not. 


22  The  Moon  Pool 

"  'They're  a  difficult  lot  as  it  is,'  I  said.  'If 
we  break  into  one  of  their  religious  ceremonies 
they'll  probably  never  forgive  us.  Let's  keep 
out  of  any  family  party  where  we  haven't  been 
invited. ' 

"  'That's  so,'  agreed  Stanton. 

"The  strange  tinkling  rose  and  fell,  rose  and 
fell 

"  'There's  something — something  very  unsettling 
about  it,'  said  Edith  at  last  soberly.  'I  wonder 
what  they  make  those  sounds  with.  They  frighten 
me  half  to  death,  and,  at  the  same  time,  they 
make  me  feel  as  though  some  enormous  rapture 
were  just  around  the  corner. ' 

"  'It's  devilish  uncanny!'  broke  in  Stanton. 

"And  as  he  spoke  the  flap  of  Thora's  tent  was 
raised  and  out  into  the  moonlight  strode  the  old 
Swede.  She  was  the  great  Norse  type — tall, 
deep-breasted,  moulded  on  the  old  Viking  lines. 
Her  sixty  years  had  slipped  from  her.  She  looked 
like  some  ancient  priestess  of  Odin. 

She  stood  there,  her  eyes  wide,  brilliant,  staring. 
She  thrust  her  head  forward  toward  Nan-Tauach, 
regarding  the  moving  lights;  she  listened.  Sud 
denly  she  raised  her  arms  and  made  a  curious 
gesture  to  the  moon.  It  was — an  archaic — move 
ment;  she  seemed  to  drag  it  from  remote  anti 
quity — yet  in  it  was  a  strange  suggestion  of  power. 
Twice  she  repeated  this  gesture  and — the  tinklings 
died  away!  She  turned  to  us. 

"  'Go!'  she  said,  and  her  voice  seemed  to  come 


The  Moon  Rock  23 

from  far  distances.  'Go  from  here — and  quickly! 
Go  while  you  may.  It  has  called — '  She  pointed 
to  the  islet.  It  knows  you  are  here.  It  waits!' 
she  wailed.  'It  beckons — the — the ' 

"She  fell  at  Edith's  feet,  and  over  the  lagoon 
came  again  the  tinklings,  now  with  a  quicker  note 
of  jubilance — almost  of  triumph. 

"We  watched  beside  her  throughout  the  night. 
The  sounds  from  Nan-Tauach  continued  until 
about  an  hour  before  moon-set.  In  the  morning 
Thora  awoke,  none  the  worse,  apparently.  She 
had  had  bad  dreams,  she  said.  She  could  not 
remember  what  they  were — except  that  they  had 
warned  her  of  danger.  She  was  oddly  sullen,  and 
throughout  the  morning  her  gaze  returned  again 
and  again  half-fascinatedly,  half-wonderingly  to 
the  neighbouring  isle. 

"That  afternoon  the  natives  returned.  And 
that  night  on  Nan-Tauach  the  silence  was  unbroken 
nor  were  there  lights  nor  sign  of  life. 

"You  will  understand,  Goodwin,  how  the  oc 
currences  I  have  related  would  excite  the  scientific 
curiosity.  We  rejected  immediately,  of  course, 
any  explanation  admitting  the  supernatural. 

"Our — symptoms  let  me  call  them — could  all 
very  easily  be  accounted  for.  It  is  unquestionable 
that  the  vibrations  created  by  certain  musical 
instruments  have  definite  and  sometimes  extra 
ordinary  effect  upon  the  nervous  system.  We 
accepted  this  as  the  explanation  of  the  reactions 
we  had  experienced,  hearing  the  unfamiliar  sounds. 


24  The  Moon  Pool 

Thora's  nervousness,  her  superstitious  apprehen 
sions,  had  wrought  her  up  to  a  condition  of  semi- 
somnambulistic  hysteria.  Science  could  readily 
explain  her  part  in  the  night's  scene. 

"We  came  to  the  conclusion  that  there  must  be 
a  passageway  between  Ponape  and  Nan-Tauach 
known  to  the  natives — and  used  by  them  during 
their  rites.  We  decided  that  on  the  next  depar 
ture  of  our  labourers  we  would  set  forth  imme 
diately  to  Nan-Tauach.  We  would  investigate 
during  the  day,  and  at  evening  my  wife  and  Thora 
would  go  back  to  camp,  leaving  Stanton  and  me 
to  spend  the  night  on  the  island,  observing  from 
some  safe  hiding-place  what  might  occur. 

"The  moon  waned;  appeared  crescent  in  the 
west;  waxed  slowly  toward  the  full.  Before  the 
men  left  us  they  literally  prayed  us  to  accompany 
them.  Their  importunities  only  made  us  more 
eager  to  see  what  it  was  that,  we  were  now  con 
vinced,  they  wanted  to  conceal  from  us.  At 
least  that  was  true  of  Stanton  and  myself.  It  was 
not  true  of  Edith.  She  was  thoughtful,  abstracted 
— reluctant. 

"When  the  men  were  out  of  sight  around  the 
turn  of  the  harbour,  we  took  our  boat  and  made 
straight  for  Nan-Tauach.  Soon  its  mighty  sea 
wall  towered  above  us.  We  passed  through  the 
water-gate  with  its  gigantic  hewn  prisms  of  basalt 
and  landed  beside  a  half-submerged  pier.  In 
front  of  us  stretched  a  series  of  giant  steps  leading 
into  a  vast  court  strewn  with  fragments  of  fallen 


The  Moon  Rock  25 

pillars.  In  the  centre  of  the  court,  beyond  the 
shattered  pillars,  rose  another  terrace  of  basalt 
blocks,  concealing,  I  knew,  still  another  enclosure. 

"And  now,  Walter,  for  the  better  understand 
ing  of  what  follows — and — and — "  he  hesitated. 
"Should  you  decide  later  to  return  with  me  or, 
if  I  am  taken,  to — to — follow  us — listen  carefully 
to  my  description  of  this  place:  Nan-Tauach  is 
literally  three  rectangles.  The  first  rectangle  is 
the  sea-wall,  built  up  of  monoliths — hewn  and 
squared,  twenty  feet  wide  at  the  top.  To  get  to 
the  gateway  in  the  sea-wall  you  pass  along  the 
canal  marked  on  the  map  between  Nan-Tauach 
and  the  islet  named  Tau.  The  entrance  to  the 
canal  is  hidden  by  dense  thickets  of  mangroves; 
once  through  these  the  way  is  clear.  The  steps 
lead  up  from  the  landing  of  the  sea-gate  through 
the  entrance  to  the  courtyard. 

"This  courtyard  is  surrounded  by  another  basalt 
wall,  rectangular,  following  with  mathematical 
exactness  the  march  of  the  outer  barricades. 
The  sea-wall  is  from  thirty  to  forty  feet  high — 
originally  it  must  have  been  much  higher,  but 
there  has  been  subsidence  in  parts.  The  wall  of 
the  first  enclosure  is  fifteen  feet  across  the  top  and 
its  height  varies  from  twenty  to  fifty  feet — here, 
too,  the  gradual  sinking  of  the  land  has  caused 
portions  of  it  to  fall. 

"Within  this  courtyard  is  the  second  enclosure. 
Its  terrace,  of  the  same  basalt  as  the  outer  walls, 
is  about  twenty  feet  high.  Entrance  is  gained  to 


26  The  Moon  Pool 

it  by  many  breaches  which  time  has  made  in  its 
stonework.  This  is  the  inner  court,  the  heart  of 
Nan-Tauach!  There  lies  the  great  central  vault 
with  which  is  associated  the  one  name  of  living 
being  that  has  come  to  us  out  of  the  mists  of  the 
past.  The  natives  say  it  was  the  treasure-house 
of  Chau-te-leur,  a  mighty  king  who  reigned  long 
'before  their  fathers.'  As  Chau  is  the  ancient 
Ponapean  word  both  for  sun  and  king,  the  name 
means,  without  doubt,  'place  of  the  sun  king.' 
It  is  a  memory  of  a  dynastic  name  of  the  race 
that  ruled  the  Pacific  continent,  now  vanished — 
just  as  the  rulers  of  ancient  Crete  took  the  name 
of  Minos  and  the  rulers  of  Egypt  the  name  of 
Pharaoh. 

"And  opposite  this  place  of  the  sun  king  is  the 
moon  rock  that  hides  the  Moon  Pool. 

"It  was  Stanton  who  discovered  the  moon  rock. 
We  had  been  inspecting  the  inner  courtyard; 
Edith  and  Thora  were  getting  together  our  lunch. 
I  came  out  of  the  vault  of  Chau-te-leur  to  find 
Stanton  before  a  part  of  the  terrace  studying  it 
wonderingly. 

'"What  do  you  make  of  this?'  he  asked  me  as 
I  came  up.  He  pointed  to  the  wall.  I  followed 
his  finger  and  saw  a  slab  of  stone  about  fifteen 
feet  high  and  ten  wide.  At  first  all  I  noticed  was 
the  exquisite  nicety  with  which  its  edges  joined 
the  blocks  about  it.  Then  I  realized  that  its 
colour  was  subtly  different — tinged  with  grey  and 
of  a  smooth,  peculiar — deadness. 


The  Moon  Rock  27 

"'  Looks  more  like  calcite  than  basalt,'  I  said. 
I  touched  it  and  withdrew  my  hand  quickly,  fa. 
at  the  contact  every  nerve  in  my  arm  tingled  as 
though  a  shock  of  frozen  electricity  had  passed 
through  it.  It  was  not  cold  as  we  know  cold. 
It  was  a  chill  force — the  phrase  I  have  used — 
frozen  electricity — describes  it  better  than  any 
thing  else.  Stanton  looked  at  me  oddly. 

"  'So  you  felt  it  too,'  he  said.  'I  was  wonder 
ing  whether  I  was  developing  hallucinations  like 
Thora.  Notice,  by  the  way,  that  the  blocks  beside 
it  are  quite  warm  beneath  the  sun. ' 

"We  examined  the  slab  eagerly.  Its  edges 
were  cut  as  though  by  an  engraver  of  jewels. 
They  fitted  against  the  neighbouring  blocks  in 
almost  a  hair-line.  Its  base  was  slightly  curved, 
and  fitted  as  closely  as  top  and  sides  upon  the 
huge  stones  on  which  it  rested.  And  then  we 
noted  that  these  stones  had  been  hollowed  to 
follow  the  line  of  the  grey  stone's  foot.  There 
was  a  semicircular  depression  running  from  one 
side  of  the  slab  to  the  other.  It  was  as  though 
the  grey  rock  stood  in  the  centre  of  a  shallow  cup 
— revealing  half,  covering  half.  Something  about 
this  hollow  attracted  me.  I  reached  down  and 
felt  it.  Goodwin,  although  the  balance  of  the 
stones  that  formed  it,  like  all  the  stones  of  the 
courtyard,  were  rough  and  age-worn — this  was 
as  smooth,  as  even  surfaced  as  though  it  had  just 
left  the  hands  of  the  polisher. 

"  'It's  a  door!'  exclaimed  Stanton.     'It  swings 


28  The  Moon  Pool 

around  in  that  little  cup.  That's  what  makes 
the  hollow  so  smooth. ' 

"  'Maybe  you're  right,'  I  replied.  'But  how 
the  devil  can  we  open  it?' 

"We  went  over  the  slab  again — pressing  upon 
its  edges,  thrusting  against  its  sides.  During 
one  of  those  efforts  I  happened  to  look  up — and 
cried  out.  A  foot  above  and  on  each  side  of  the 
corner  of  the  grey  rock's  lintel  was  a  slight  con 
vexity,  visible  only  from  the  angle  at  which  my 
gaze  struck  it. 

"We  carried  with  us  a  small  scaling-ladder, 
and  up  this  I  went.  The  bosses  were  apparently 
nothing  more  than  chiseled  curvatures  in  the  stone. 
I  laid  my  hand  on  the  one  I  was  examining,  and 
drew  it  back  sharply.  In  my  palm,  at  the  base 
of  my  thumb,  I  had  felt  the  same  shock  that  I 
had  in  touching  the  slab  below.  I  put  my  hand 
back.  The  impression  came  from  a  spot  not  more 
than  an  inch  wide.  I  went  carefully  over  the 
entire  convexity,  and  six  times  more  the  chill  ran 
through  my  arm.  There  were  seven  circles  an 
inch  wide  in  the  curved  place,  each  of  which  com 
municated  the  precise  sensation  I  have  described. 
The  convexity  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  slab 
gave  exactly  the  same  results.  But  no  amount 
of  touching  or  of  pressing  these  spots  singly  or 
in  any  combination  gave  the  slightest  promise  of 
motion  to  the  slab  itself. 

"  'And  yet — they're  what  open  it, '  said  Stanton 
positively. 


The  Moon  Rock  29 

"  'Why  do  you  say  that ? '  I  asked. 

"  'I — don't  know,'  he  answered  hesitatingly. 
'But  something  tells  me  so.  Throck, '  he  went  on 
half  earnestly,  half  laughingly,  'the  purely  scienti 
fic  part  of  me  is  fighting  the  purely  human  part 
of  me.  The  scientific  part  is  urging  me  to  find 
some  way  to  get  that  slab  either  down  or  open. 
The  human  part  is  just  as  strongly  urging  me  to 
do  nothing  of  the  sort  and  get  away  while  I 
can!' 

"He  laughed  again — shamefacedly. 

"  'Which  shall  it  be?'  he  asked— and  I  thought 
that  in  his  tone  the  human  side  of  him  was  ascen 
dant. 

"  'It  will  probably  stay  as  it  is — unless  we 
blow  it  to  bits, '  I  said. 

"  'I  thought  of  that,'  he  answered,  'and — I 
wouldn't  dare,'  he  added  soberly  enough.  And 
even  as  I  had  spoken  there  came  to  me  the  same 
feeling  that  he  had  expressed.  It  was  as  though 
something  passed  out  of  the  grey  rock  that  struck 
my  heart  as  a  hand  strikes  an  impious  lip.  We 
turned  away — uneasily,  and  faced  Thora  coming 
through  a  breach  on  the  terrace. 

"  'Miss  Edith  wants  you  quick,'  she  began — 
and  stopped.  Her  eyes  went  past  me  to  the  grey 
rock.  Her  body  grew  rigid;  she  took  a  few  stiff 
steps  forward  and  then  ran  straight  to  it.  She 
cast  herself  upon  its  breast,  hands  and  face  pressed 
against  it;  we  heard  her  scream  as  though  her 
very  soul  were  being  drawn  from  her — and  watched 


30  The  Moon  Pool 

her  fall  at  its  foot.  As  we  picked  her  up  I  saw 
steal  from  her  face  the  look  I  had  observed  when 
first  we  heard  the  crystal  music  of  Nan-Tauach 
— that  unhuman  mingling  of  opposites!" 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   FIRST   VANISHINGS 

"WE  carried  Thora  back,  down  to  where  Edith 
was  waiting.  We  told  her  what  had  happened 
and  what  we  had  found.  She  listened  gravely, 
and  as  we  finished  Thora  sighed  and  opened  her 
eyes. 

"  'I  would  like  to  see  the  stone,'  she  said. 
'Charles,  you  stay  here  with  Thora. '  We  passed 
through  the  outer  court  silently — and  stood  before 
the  rock.  She  touched  it,  drew  back  her  hand  as 
I  had;  thrust  it  forward  again  resolutely  and  held 
it  there.  She  seemed  to  be  listening.  Then  she 
turned  to  me. 

"  'David,'  said  my  wife,  and  the  wistfulness 
in  her  voice  hurt  me — '  David,  would  you  be  very, 
very  disappointed  if  we  went  from  here — without 
trying  to  find  out  any  more  about  it — would  you? ' 

"Walter,  I  never  wanted  anything  so  much  in 
my  life  as  I  wanted  to  learn  what  that  rock  con 
cealed.  Nevertheless,  I  tried  to  master  my  desire, 
and  I  answered — 'Edith,  not  a  bit  if  you  want  us 
to  do  it. ' 

31 


32  The  Moon  Pool 

"She  read  my  struggle  in  my  eyes.  She  turned 
back  toward  the  grey  rock.  I  saw  a  shiver  pass 
through  her.  I  felt  a  tinge  of  remorse  and  pity! 

"  'Edith,'  I  exclaimed,  'we'll  go!' 

"She  looked  at  me  again.  'Science  is  a  jealous 
mistress,'  she  quoted.  'No,  after  all  it  may  be 
just  fancy.  At  any  rate,  you  can't  run  away. 
No!  But,  Dave,  I'm  going  to  stay  too!' 

"And  there  was  no  changing  her  decision.  As 
we  neared  the  others  she  laid  a  hand  on  my  arm. 

"  'Dave, '  she  said,  'if  there  should  be  something 
— well — inexplicable  tonight — something  that 
seems — too  dangerous — will  you  promise  to  go 
back  to  our  own  islet  tomorrow,  if  we  can — and 
wait  until  the  natives  return?' 

' '  I  promised  eagerly — the  desire  to  stay  and  see 
what  came  with  the  night  was  like  a  fire  within  me. 

"We  picked  a  place  about  five  hundred  feet 
away  from  the  steps  leading  into  the  outer  court. 

"The  spot  we  had  selected  was  well  hidden. 
We  could  not  be  seen,  and  yet  we  had  a  clear  view 
of  the  stairs  and  the  gateway.  We  settled  down 
just  before  dusk  to  wait  for  whatever  might  come. 
I  was  nearest  the  giant  steps;  next  me  Edith; 
then  Thora,  and  last  Stanton. 

' '  Night  fell.  After  a  time  the  eastern  sky  began 
to  lighten,  and  we  knew  that  the  moon  was  rising; 
grew  lighter  still,  and  the  orb  peeped  over  the 
sea;  swam  into  full  sight.  I  glanced  at  Edith 
and  then  at  Thora.  My  wife  was  intently  listen 
ing.  Thora  sat,  as  she  had  since  we  had  placed 


The  First  Vanishings  33 

ourselves,  elbows  on  knees,  her  hands  covering 
her  face. 

"And  then  from  the  moonlight  flooding  us 
there  dripped  down  on  me  a  great  drowsiness. 
Sleep  seemed  to  seep  from  the  rays  and  fall  upon 
my  eyes,  closing  them — closing  them  inexorably. 
Edith's  hand  in  mine  relaxed.  Stanton's  head 
fell  upon  his  breast  and  his  body  swayed  drunkenly. 
I  tried  to  rise — to  fight  against  the  profound  desire 
for  slumber  that  pressed  in  on  me. 

"And  as  I  fought  Thora  raised  her  head  as 
though  listening;  and  turned  toward  the  gateway. 
There  was  infinite  despair  in  her  face — and  expect 
ancy.  I  tried  again  to  rise — and  a  surge  of  sleep 
rushed  over  me.  Dimly,  as  I  sank  within  it,  I 
heard  a  crystalline  chiming;  raised  my  lids  once 
more  with  a  supreme  effort. 

"Thora,  bathed  in  light,  was  standing  at  the  top 
of  the  stairs. 

"Sleep  took  me  for  its  very  own — swept  me  into 
the  heart  of  oblivion ! 

"Dawn  was  breaking  when  I  wakened.  Re 
collection  rushed  back;  I  thrust  a  panic-stricken 
hand  out  toward  Edith;  touched  her  and  my 
heart  gave  a  great  leap  of  thankfulness.  She 
stirred,  sat  up,  rubbing  dazed  eyes.  Stanton 
lay  on  his  side,  back  toward  us,  head  in  arms. 

"Edith  looked  at  me  laughingly.  'Heavens! 
What  sleep!'  she  said.  Memory  came  to  her. 
'What  happened?'  she  whispered.  'What 
made  us  sleep  like  that?' 


34  The  Moon  Pool 

"Stanton  awoke. 

"  'What's  the  matter!'  he  exclaimed.  'You 
look  as  though  you've  been  seeing  ghosts.' 

"Edith  caught  my  hands. 

"  'Where's  Thora?'  she  cried.  Before  I  could 
answer  she  had  run  out  into  the  open,  calling. 

"  'Thora  was  taken,'  was  all  I  could  say  to 
Stanton.  Together  we  went  to  my  wife,  now 
standing  beside  the  great  stone  steps,  looking  up 
fearfully  at  the  gateway  into  the  terraces.  There 
I  told  them  what  I  had  seen  before  sleep  had 
drowned  me.  And  together  then  we  ran  up  the 
stairs,  through  the  court  and  to  the  grey  rock. 

"The  slab  was  closed  as  it  had  been  the  day 
before,  nor  was  there  trace  of  its  having  opened. 
No  trace  ?  Even  as  I  thought  this  Edith  dropped 
to  her  knees  before  it  and  reached  toward  some 
thing  lying  at  its  foot.  It  was  a  little  piece  of 
gay  silk.  I  knew  it  for  part  of  the  kerchief  Thora 
wore  about  her  hair.  She  lifted  the  fragment. 
It  had  been  cut  from  the  kerchief  as  though  by  a 
razor-edge;  a  few  threads  ran  from  it — down 
toward  the  base  of  the  slab ;  ran  on  to  the  base  of 
the  grey  rock  and — under  it ! 

' '  The  grey  rock  was  a  door !  And  it  had  opened 
and  Thora  had  passed  through  it ! 

"I  think  that  for  the  next  few  minutes  we  all 
were  a  little  insane.  We  beat  upon  that  portal 
with  our  hands,  with  stones  and  sticks.  At  last 
reason  came  back  to  us. 

"Goodwin,  during  the  next  two  hours  we  tried 


The  First  Vanishings  35 

evrry  way  in  our  power  to  force  entrance  through 
the  slab.  The  rock  resisted  our  drills.  We  tried 
explosions  at  the  base  with  charges  covered  by 
rock.  They  made  not  the  slightest  impression 
on  the  surface,  expending  their  force,  of  course, 
upon  the  slighter  resistance  of  their  coverings. 

"Afternoon  found  us  hopeless.  Night  was 
coming  on  and  we  would  have  to  decide  our  course 
of  action.  I  wanted  to  go  to  Ponape  for  help. 
But  Edith  objected  that  this  would  take  hours 
and  after  we  had  reached  there  it  would  be  impos 
sible  to  persuade  our  men  to  return  with  us  that 
night,  if  at  all.  What  then  was  left?  Clearly 
only  one  of  two  choices :  to  go  back  to  our  camp, 
wait  for  our  men,  and  on  their  return  try  to  per 
suade  them  to  go  with  us  to  Nan-Tauach.  But 
this  would  mean  the  abandonment  of  Thora  for 
at  least  two  days.  We  could  not  do  it;  it  would 
have  been  too  cowardly. 

"The  other  choice  was  to  wait  where  we  were 
for  night  to  come;  to  wait  for  the  rock  to  open 
as  it  had  the  night  before,  and  to  make  a  sortie 
through  it  for  Thora  before  it  could  close  again. 

' '  Our  path  lay  clear  before  us.  We  had  to  spend 
that  night  on  Nan-Tauach! 

"We  had,  of  course,  discussed  the  sleep  pheno 
mena  very  fully.  If  our  theory  that  lights,  sounds, 
and  Thora's  disappearance  were  linked  with  secret 
religious  rites  of  the  natives,  the  logical  inference 
was  that  the  slumber  had  been  produced  by  them, 
perhaps  by  vapours — you  know  as  well  as  I,  what 


36  The  Moon  Pool 

extraordinary  knowledge  these  Pacific  peoples 
have  of  such  things.  Or  the  sleep  might  have 
been  simply  a  coincidence  and  produced  by 
emanations  either  gaseous  or  from  plants,  natural 
causes  which  had  happened  to  coincide  in  their 
effects  with  the  other  manifestations.  We  made 
some  rough  and  ready  but  effective  respirators. 

"As  dusk  fell  we  looked  over  our  weapons. 
Edith  was  an  excellent  shot  with  both  rifle  and 
pistol.  We  had  decided  that  my  wife  was  to 
remain  in  the  hiding-place.  Stanton  would  take 
up  a  station  on  the  far  side  of  the  stairway  and  I 
would  place  myself  opposite  him  on  the  side  near 
Edith.  The  place  I  picked  out  was  less  than  two 
hundred  feet  from  her,  and  I  could  reassure  myself 
now  and  then  as  to  her  safety  as  it  looked  down 
upon  the  hollow  wherein  she  crouched.  From  our 
respective  stations  Stanton  and  I  could  command 
the  gateway  entrance.  His  position  gave  him 
also  a  glimpse  of  the  outer  courtyard. 

"A  faint  glow  in  the  sky  heralded  the  moon. 
Stanton  and  I  took  our  places.  The  moon  dawn 
increased  rapidly;  the  disk  swam  up,  and  in  a 
moment  it  was  shining  in  full  radiance  upon 
ruins  and  sea. 

"As  it  rose  there  came  a  curious  little  sighing 
sound  from  the  inner  terrace.  Stanton  straight 
ened  up  and  stared  intently  through  the  gateway, 
rifle  ready. 

"  'Stanton,  what  do  you  see?'  I  called  cau 
tiously.  He  waved  a  silencing  hand.  I  turned 


The  First  Vanishings  37 

my  head  to  look  at  Edith.  A  shock  ran  through 
me.  She  lay  upon  her  side.  Her  face,  grotesque 
with  its  nose  and  mouth  covered  by  the  respirator, 
was  turned  full  toward  the  moon.  She  was  again 
in  deepest  sleep ! 

"As  I  turned  again  to  call  to  Stanton,  my  eyes 
swept  the  head  of  the  steps  and  stopped,  fascinated. 
For  the  moonlight  had  thickened.  It  seemed  to 
be — curdled — there;  and  through  it  ran  little 
gleams  and  veins  of  shimmering  white  fire.  A 
languor  passed  through  me.  It  was  not  the  in 
effable  drowsiness  of  the  preceding  night.  It  was 
a  sapping  of  all  will  to  move.  I  tried  to  cry  out 
to  Stanton.  I  had  not  even  the  will  to  move  my 
lips.  Goodwin — I  could  not  even  move  my  eyes! 

"Stanton  was  in  the  range  of  my  fixed  vision. 
I  watched  him  leap  up  the  steps  and  move  toward 
the  gateway.  The  curdled  radiance  seemed  to 
await  him.  He  stepped  into  it — and  was  lost  to 
my  sight. 

' ' For  a  dozen  heart  beats  there  was  silence.  Then 
a  rain  of  tinklings  that  set  the  pulses  racing  with 
joy  and  at  once  checked  them  with  tiny  fingers  of 
ice — and  ringing  through  them  Stanton 's  voice 
from  the  courtyard — a  great  cry — a  scream — 
filled  with  ecstasy  insupportable  and  horror  un 
imaginable!  And  once  more  there  was  silence. 
I  strove  to  burst  the  bonds  that  held  me.  I 
could  not.  Even  my  eyelids  were  fixed.  Within 
them  my  eyes,  dry  and  aching,  burned. 

"Then  Goodwin — I  first  saw  the — inexplicable! 


38  The  Moon  Pool 

The  crystalline  music  swelled.  Where  I  sat  I 
could  take  in  the  gateway  and  its  basalt  portals, 
rough  and  broken,  rising  to  the  top  of  the  wall 
forty  feet  above,  shattered,  ruined  portals — un- 
climbable.  From  this  gateway  an  intenser  light 
began  to  flow.  It  grew,  it  gushed,  and  out  of  it 
walked  Stanton. 

"Stanton!    But— God!    What  a  vision!" 
A  deep  tremor  shook  him.     I  waited — waited. 


CHAPTER  V 

INTO  THE  MOON  POOL 

"GOODWIN,"  Throckmartin  went  on  at  last, 
"I  can  describe  him  only  as  a  thing  of  living  light. 
He  radiated  light ;  was  filled  with  light ;  overflowed 
with  it.  A  shining  cloud  whirled  through  and 
around  him  in  radiant  swirls,  shimmering  tentacles, 
luminescent,  coruscating  spirals. 

"His  face  shone  with  a  rapture  too  great  to  be 
borne  by  living  man,  and  was  shadowed  with 
insuperable  misery.  It  was  as  though  it  had 
been  remoulded  by  the  hand  of  God  and  the  hand 
of  Satan,  working  together  and  in  harmony.  You 
have  seen  that  seal  upon  my  own.  But  you  have 
never  seen  it  in  the  degree  that  Stanton  bore  it. 
The  eyes  were  wide  open  and  fixed,  as  though  upon 
some  inward  vision  of  hell  and  heaven ! 

"The  light  that  filled  and  surrounded  him  had 
a  nucleus,  a  core — something  shiftingly  human 
shaped — that  dissolved  and  changed,  gathered 
itself,  whirled  through  and  beyond  him  and  back 
again.  And  as  its  shining  nucleus  passed  through 
him  Stanton's  whole  body  pulsed  radiance.  As 
the  luminescence  moved,  there  moved  above  it, 

39 


40  The  Moon  Pool 

still  and  serene  always,  seven  tiny  globes  of  seven 
colors,  like  seven  little  moons. 

"Then  swiftly  Stanton  was  lifted — levitated — 
up  the  unscalable  wall  and  to  its  top.  The  glow 
faded  from  the  moonlight,  the  tinkling  music 
grew  fainter.  I  tried  again  to  move.  The  tears 
were  running  down  now  from  my  rigid  lids  and 
they  brought  relief  to  my  tortured  eyes. 

"I  have  said  my  gaze  was  fixed.  It  was.  But 
from  the  side,  peripherally,  it  took  in  a  part  of  the 
far  wall  of  the  outer  enclosure.  Ages  seemed  to 
pass  and  a  radiance  stole  along  it.  Soon  drifted 
into  sight  the  figure  that  was  Stanton.  Far 
away  he  was — on  the  gigantic  wall.  But  still  I 
could  see  the  shining  spirals  whirling  jubilantly 
around  and  through  him ;  felt  rather  than  saw  his 
tranced  face  beneath  the  seven  moons.  A  swirl 
of  crystal  notes,  and  he  had  passed.  And  all  the 
time,  as  though  from  some  opened  well  of  light,  the 
courtyard  gleamed  and  sent  out  silver  fires  that 
dimmed  the  moon-rays,  yet  seemed  strangely  to 
be  a  part  of  them. 

"At  last  the  moon  neared  the  horizon.  There 
came  a  louder  burst  of  sound ;  the  second,  and  last, 
cry  of  Stanton,  like  an  echo  of  his  first!  Again 
the  soft  sighing  from  the  inner  terrace.  Then — 
utter  silence ! 

"The  light  faded;  the  moon  was  setting  and 
with  a  rush  life  and  power  to  move  returned  to  me. 
I  made  a  leap  for  the  steps,  rushed  up  them, 
through  the  gateway  and  straight  to  the  grey 


Into  the  Moon  Pool  41 

rock.  It  was  closed — as  I  knew  it  would  be. 
But  did  I  dream  it  or  did  I  hear,  echoing  through 
it  as  though  from  vast  distances  a  triumphant 
shouting  ? 

"I  ran  back  to  Edith.  At  my  touch  she 
wakened ;  looked  at  me  wanderingly ;  raised  herself 
on  a  hand. 

"'Dave!'  she  said,  'I  slept— after  all.'  She 
saw  the  despair  on  my  face  and  leaped  to  her 
feet  'Dave!'  she  cried.  'What  is  it?  Where's 
Charles?' 

"I  lighted  a  fire  before  I  spoke.  Then  I  told 
her.  And  for  the  balance  of  that  night  we  sat 
before  the  flames,  arms  around  each  other — like 
two  frightened  children." 

Abruptly  Throckmartin  held  his  hands  out  to 
me  appealingly. 

"Walter,  old  friend!"  he  cried.  "Don't  look 
at  me  as  though  I  were  mad.  It's  truth,  absolute 
truth.  Wait — "  I  comforted  him  as  well  as  I 
could  After  a  little  time  he  took  up  his  story. 

"Never,"  he  said,  "did  man  welcome  the  sun 
as  we  did  that  morning.  As  soon  as  it  had  risen 
we  went  back  to  the  courtyard.  The  walls  whereon 
I  had  seen  Stanton  were  black  and  silent.  The 
terraces  were  as  they  had  been.  The  grey  slab 
was  in  its  place.  In  the  shallow  hollow  at  its  base 
was — nothing.  Nothing — nothing  was  there  any 
where  on  the  islet  of  Stanton — not  a  trace. 

"What  were  we  to  do?  Precisely  the  same 
arguments  that  had  kept  us  there  the  night  before 


42  The  Moon  Pool 

held  good  now — and  doubly  good.  We  could  not 
abandon  these  two;  could  not  go  as  long  as  there 
was  the  faintest  hope  of  finding  them — and  yet  for 
love  of  each  other  how  could  we  remain  ?  I  loved 
my  wife, — how  much  I  never  knew  until  that 
day ;  and  she  loved  me  as  deeply. 

'"It  takes  only  one  each  night,'  she  pleaded. 
'Beloved,  let  it  take  me.' 

"I  wept,  Walter.     We  both  wept. 

'"We  will  meet  it  together,'  she  said.  And  it 
was  thus  at  last  that  we  arranged  it." 

"That  took  great  courage  indeed,  Throck- 
martin, "  I  interrupted.  He  looked  at  me  eagerly. 

"You  do  believe  then?"  he  exclaimed. 

"I  believe,"  I  said.  He  pressed  my  hand 
with  a  grip  that  nearly  crushed  it. 

"Now,"  he  told  me,  "I  do  not  fear.  If  I— 
fail,  you  will  follow  with  help?" 

I  promised. 

"We  talked  it  over  carefully,"  he  went  on, 
"bringing  to  bear  all  our  power  of  analysis  and 
habit  of  calm,  scientific  thought.  We  considered 
minutely  the  time  element  in  the  phenomena. 
Although  the  deep  chanting  began  at  the  very 
moment  of  moonrise,  fully  five  minutes  had 
passed  between  its  full  lifting  and  the  strange 
sighing  sound  from  the  inner  terrace.  I  went 
back  in  memory  over  the  happenings  of  the  night 
before.  At  least  ten  minutes  had  intervened 
between  the  first  heralding  sigh  and  the  intensifica 
tion  of  the  moonlight  in  the  courtyard.  And  this 


Into  the  Moon  Pool  43 

glow  grew  for  at  least  ten  minutes  more  before  the 
first  burst  of  the  crystal  notes.  Indeed,  more 
than  half  an  hour  must  have  elapsed,  I  calculated, 
between  the  moment  the  moon  showed  above  the 
horizon  and  the  first  delicate  onslaught  of  the 
tinklings. 

"'Edith!'  I  cried.  'I  think  I  have  it!  The 
grey  rock  opens  five  minutes  after  upon  the  moon- 
rise.  But  whoever  or  whatever  it  is  that  comes 
through  it  must  wait  until  the  moon  has  risen 
higher,  or  else  it  must  come  from  a  distance.  The 
thing  to  do  is  not  to  wait  for  it,  but  to  surprise  it 
before  it  passes  out  the  door.  We  will  go  into  the 
inner  court  early.  You  will  take  your  rifle  and 
pistol  and  hide  yourself  where  you  can  command 
the  opening — if  the  slab  does  open.  The  instant 
it  opens  I  will  enter.  It's  our  best  chance,  Edith. 
I  think  it's  our  only  one.' 

"My  wife  demurred  strongly.  She  wanted  to 
go  with  me.  But  I  convinced  her  that  it  was 
better  for  her  to  stand  guard  without,  prepared 
to  help  me  if  I  were  forced  again  into  the  open  by 
what  lay  behind  the  rock. 

"At  the  half -hour  before  moonrise  we  went 
into  the  inner  court.  I  took  my  place  at  the  side 
of  the  grey  rock.  Edith  crouched  behind  a  broken 
pillar  twenty  feet  away;  slipped  her  rifle-barrel 
over  it  so  that  it  would  cover  the  opening. 

"The  minutes  crept  by.  The  darkness  lessened 
and  through  the  breaches  of  the  terrace  I  watched 
the  far  sky  softly  lighten.  With  the  first  pale 


44  The  Moon  Pool 

flush  the  silence  of  the  place  intensified.  It 
deepened;  became  unbearably — expectant.  The 
moon  rose,  showed  the  quarter,  the  half,  then 
swam  up  into  full  sight  like  a  great  bubble. 

"Its  rays  fell  upon  the  wall  before  me  and 
suddenly  upon  the  convexities  I  have  described 
seven  little  circles  of  light  sprang  out.  They 
gleamed,  glimmered,  grew  brighter — shone.  The 
gigantic  slab  before  me  glowed  with  them,  silver 
wavelets  of  phosphorescence  pulsed  over  its  sur 
face  and  then — it  turned  as  though  on  a  pivot, 
sighing  softly  as  it  moved ! 

"With  a  word  to  Edith  I  flung  myself  through 
the  opening.  A  tunnel  stretched  before  me.  It 
glowed  with  the  same  faint  silvery  radiance. 
Down  it  I  raced.  The  passage  turned  abruptly, 
passed  parallel  to  the  walls  of  the  outer  courtyard 
and  then  once  more  led  downward. 

"The  passage  ended.  Before  me  was  a  high 
vaulted  arch.  It  seemed  to  open  into  space;  a 
space  filled  with  lambent,  coruscating,  many- 
coloured  mist  whose  brightness  grew  even  as  I 
watched.  I  passed  through  the  arch  and  stopped 
in  sheer  awe ! 

"In  front  of  me  was  a  pool.  It  was  circular, 
perhaps  twenty  feet  wide.  Around  it  ran  a  low, 
softly  curved  lip  of  glimmering  silvery  stone.  Its 
water  was  palest  blue.  The  pool  with  its  silvery 
rim  was  like  a  great  blue  eye  staring  upward. 

"Upon  it  streamed  seven  shafts  of  radiance. 
They  poured  down  upon  the  blue  eye  like  cylindri- 


Into  the  Moon  Pool  45 

cal  torrents ;  they  were  like  shining  pillars  of  light 
rising  from  a  sapphire  floor. 

"One  was  the  tender  pink  of  the  pearl;  one  of 
the  aurora's  green;  a  third  a  deathly  white;  the 
fourth  the  blue  in  mother-of-pearl;  a  shimmering 
column  of  pale  amber;  a  beam  of  amethyst;  a 
shaft  of  molten  silver.  Such  are  the  colours  of  the 
seven  lights  that  stream  upon  the  Moon  Pool.  I 
drew  closer,  awestricken.  The  shafts  did  not 
illumine  the  depths.  They  played  upon  the 
surface  and  seemed  there  to  diffuse,  to  melt  into 
it.  The  Pool  drank  them! 

"Through  the  water  tiny  gleams  of  phos 
phorescence  began  to  dart,  sparkles  and  corusca 
tions  of  pale  incandescence.  And  far,  far  below  I 
sensed  a  movement,  a  shifting  glow  as  of  a  radiant 
body  slowly  rising. 

"I  looked  upward,  following  the  radiant  pillars 
to  their  source.  Far  above  were  seven  shining 
globes,  and  it  was  from  these  that  the  rays  poured. 
Even  as  I  watched  their  brightness  grew.  They 
were  like  seven  moons  set  high  in  some  caverned 
heaven.  Slowly  their  splendour  increased,  and 
with  it  the  splendour  of  the  seven  beams  streaming 
from  them. 

"I  tore  my  gaze  away  and  stared  at  the  Pool. 
It  had  grown  milky,  opalescent.  The  rays  gush 
ing  into  it  seemed  to  be  filling  it;  it  was  alive  with 
sparklings,  scintillations,  glimmerings.  And  the 
luminescence  I  had  seen  rising  from  its  depths  was 
larger,  nearer ! 


46  The  Moon  Pool 

"A  swirl  of  mist  floated  up  from  its  surface. 
It  drifted  within  the  embrace  of  the  rosy  beam 
and  hung  there  for  a  moment.  The  beam  seemed 
to  embrace  it,  sending  through  it  little  shining 
corpuscles,  tiny  rosy  spiralings.  The  mist  absorbed 
the  rays,  was  strengthened  by  them,  gained  sub 
stance.  Another  swirl  sprang  into  the  amber  shaft, 
clung  and  fed  there,  moved  swiftly  toward  the  first 
and  mingled  with  it.  And  now  other  swirls  arose, 
here  and  there,  too  fast  to  be  counted ;  hung  poised 
in  the  embrace  of  the  light  streams;  flashed  and 
pulsed  into  each  other. 

"Thicker  and  thicker  still  they  arose  until  over 
the  surface  of  the  Pool  was  a  pulsating  pillar  of 
opalescent  mist  steadily  growing  stronger;  draw 
ing  within  it  life  from  the  seven  beams  falling 
upon  it;  drawing  to  it  from  below  the  darting, 
incandescent  atoms  of  the  Pool.  Into  its  centre 
was  passing  the  luminescence  rising  from  the 
far  depths.  And  the  pillar  glowed,  throbbed — 
began  to  send  out  questing  swirls  and  tendrils 

"There  forming  before  me  was  That  which  had 
walked  with  Stanton,  which  had  taken  Thora — 
the  thing  I  had  come  to  find ! 

"My  brain  sprang  into  action.  My  hand 
threw  up  the  pistol  and  I  fired  shot  after  shot  into 
the  shining  core. 

"As  I  fired,  it  swayed  and  shook;  gathered 
again.  I  slipped  a  second  clip  into  the  automatic 
and  another  idea  coming  to  me  took  careful  aim 
at  one  of  the  globes  in  the  roof.  From  thence  I 


Into  the  Moon  Pool  47 

knew  came  the  force  that  shaped  this  Dweller  in 
the  Pool — from  the  pouring  rays  came  its  strength. 
If  I  could  destroy  them  I  could  check  its  forming. 
I  fired  again  and  again.  If  I  hit  the  globes  I  did 
no  damage.  The  little  motes  in  their  beams 
danced  with  the  motes  in  the  mist,  troubled. 
That  was  all. 

"But  up  from  the  Pool  like  little  bells,  like  tiny 
bursting  bubbles  of  glass,  swarmed  the  tinkling 
sounds — their  pitch  higher,  all  their  sweetness 
lost,  angry. 

"And  out  from  the  Inexplicable  swept  a  shining 
spiral. 

"It  caught  me  above  the  heart;  wrapped  itself 
around  me.  There  rushed  through  me  a  mingled 
ecstasy  and  horror.  Every  atom  of  me  quivered 
with  delight  and  shrank  with  despair.  There  was 
nothing  loathsome  in  it.  But  it  was  as  though 
the  icy  soul  of  evil  and  the  fiery  soul  of  good  had 
stepped  together  within  me.  The  pistol  dropped 
from  my  hand. 

"  So  I  stood  while  the  Pool  gleamed  and  sparkled ; 
the  streams  of  light  grew  more  intense  and  the 
radiant  Thing  that  held  me  gleamed  and  strength 
ened.  Its  shining  core  had  shape — but  a  shape 
that  my  eyes  and  brain  could  not  define.  It  was 
as  through  a  being  of  another  sphere  should 
assume  what  it  might  of  human  semblance,  but 
was  not  able  to  conceal  that  what  human  eyes 
saw  was  but  a  part  of  it.  It  was  neither  man  nor 
woman ;  it  was  unearthly  and  androgynous.  Even 


48  The  Moon  Pool 

as  I  found  its  human  semblance  it  changed.  And 
still  the  mingled  rapture  and  terror  held  me. 
Only  in  a  little  corner  of  my  brain  dwelt  something 
untouched;  something  that  held  itself  apart  and 
watched.  Was  it  the  soul?  I  have  never  be 
lieved — and  yet 

"Over  the  head  of  the  misty  body  there  sprang 
suddenly  out  seven  little  lights.  Each  was  the 
colour  of  the  beam  beneath  which  it  rested.  I  knew 
now  that  the  Dweller  was — complete! 

"I  heard  a  scream.  It  was  Edith's  voice.  It 
came  to  me  that  she  had  heard  the  shots  and 
followed  me.  I  felt  every  faculty  concentrate  into 
a  mighty  effort.  I  wrenched  myself  free  from 
the  gripping  tentacle  and  it  swept  back.  I  turned 
to  catch  Edith,  and  as  I  did  so  slipped — fell. 

"The  radiant  shape  above  the  Pool  leaped 
swiftly — and  straight  into  it  raced  Edith,  arms 
outstretched  to  shield  me  from  it !  God ! 

"She  threw  herself  squarely  within  its  splen 
dour,  ' '  he  whispered.  ' '  It  wrapped  its  shining  self 
around  her.  The  crystal  tinklings  burst  forth 
jubilantly.  The  light  filled  her,  ran  through  and 
around  her  as  it  had  with  Stanton;  and  dropped 
down  upon  her  face — the  look ! 

"But  her  rush  had  taken  her  to  the  very  verge 
of  the  Moon  Pool.  She  tottered;  she  fell — with 
the  radiance  still  holding  her,  still  swirling  and 
winding  around  and  through  her — into  the  Moon 
Pool!  She  sank,  and  with  her  went — the  Dweller! 

"I  dragged  myself  to  the  brink.     Far  down 


Into  the  Moon  Pool  49 

was  a  shining,  many-coloured  nebulous  cloud 
descending ;  out  of  it  peered  Edith's  face,  disappear 
ing  ;  her  eyes  stared  up  at  me — and  she  vanished ! 

"'Edith!'  I  cried  again.  'Edith,  come  back  to 
me!' 

' '  And  then  a  darkness  fell  upon  me.  I  remember 
running  back  through  the  shimmering  corridors 
and  out  into  the  courtyard.  Reason  had  left  me. 
When  it  returned  I  was  far  out  at  sea  in  our  boat 
wholly  estranged  from  civilization.  A  day  later 
I  was  picked  up  by  the  schooner  in  which  I  came  to 
Port  Moresby. 

"I  have  formed  a  plan;  you  must  hear  it, 
Goodwin — "  He  fell  upon  his  berth.  I  bent 
over  him.  Exhaustion  and  the  relief  of  telling 
his  story  had  been  too  much  for  him.  He  slept 
like  the  dead. 

All  that  night  I  watched  over  him.  When 
dawn  broke  I  went  to  my  room  to  get  a  little  sleep 
myself.  But  my  slumber  was  haunted. 

The  next  day  the  storm  was  unabated.  Throck- 
martin  came  to  me  at  lunch.  He  had  regained 
much  of  his  old  alertness. 

"Come  to  my  cabin,"  he  said.  There,  he 
stripped  his  shirt  from  him.  "Something  is 
happening,"  he  said.  "The  mark  is  smaller." 
It  was  as  he  said. 

"I'm  escaping,  "  he  whispered  jubilantly.  "Just 
let  me  get  to  Melbourne  safely,  and  then  we'll  see 
who'll  win!  For,  Walter,  I'm  not  at  all  sure  that 
Edith  is  dead — as  we  know  death — nor  that  the 


so  The  Moon  Pool 

others  are.  There  is  something  outside  experience 
there — some  great  mystery." 

And  all  that  day  he  talked  to  me  of  his  plans. 

"There's  a  natural  explanation,  of  course,"  he 
said.  "My  theory  is  that  the  moon  rock  is  of 
some  composition  sensitive  to  the  action  of  moon 
rays;  somewhat  as  the  metal  selenium  is  to  sun 
rays.  The  little  circles  over  the  top  are,  without 
doubt,  its  operating  agency.  When  the  light 
strikes  them  they  release  the  mechanism  that 
opens  the  slab,  just  as  you  can  open  doors  with 
sun  or  electric  light  by  an  ingenious  arrangement 
of  selenium-cells.  Apparently  it  takes  the  strength 
of  the  full  moon  both  to  do  this  and  to  summon  the 
Dweller  in  the  Pool.  We  will  first  try  a  con 
centration  of  the  rays  of  the  waning  moon  upon 
these  circles  to  see  whether  that  will  open  the 
rock.  If  it  does  we  will  be  able  to  investigate 
the  Pool  without  interruption  from — from — what 
emanates. 

"Look,  here  on  the  chart  are  their  locations.  I 
have  made  this  in  duplicate  for  you  in  the  event — of 
something  happening — to  me.  And  if  I  lose — you'll 
come  after  us,  Goodwin,  with  help — won't  you?" 

And  again  I  promised. 

A  little  later  he  complained  of  increasing  sleepi 
ness. 

"But  it's  just  weariness,"  he  said.  "Not  at 
all  like  that  other  drowsiness.  It's  an  hour  till 
moonrise  still,"  he  yawned  at  last.  "Wake  me 
up  a  good  fifteen  minutes  before" 


Into  the  Moon  Pool  5* 

He  lay  upon  the  berth.  I  sat  thinking.  I 
came  to  myself  with  a  guilty  start.  I  had  com 
pletely  lost  myself  in  my  deep  preoccupation. 
What  time  was  it?  I  looked  at  my  watch  and 
jumped  to  the  port-hole.  It  was  full  moonlight; 
the  orb  had  been  up  for  fully  half  an  hour.  I 
strode  over  to  Throckmartin  and  shook  him  by 
the  shoulder. 

"Up,  quick,  man!"  I  cried.  He  rose  sleepily. 
His  shirt  fell  open  at  the  neck  and  I  looked,  in 
amazement,  at  the  white  band  around  his  chest. 
Even  under  the  electric  light  it  shone  softly,  as 
though  little  flecks  of  light  were  in  it. 

Throckmartin  seemed  only  half-awake.  He 
looked  down  at  his  breast,  saw  the  glowing  cinc 
ture,  and  smiled. 

"Yes,  "  he  said  drowsily,  "it's  coming — to  take 
me  back  to  Edith !  Well,  I'm  glad." 

' '  Throckmartin ! "  I  cried.     ' '  Wake  up !  Fight. " 

4 '  Fight ! "  he  said.     ' '  No  use ;  come  after  us ! " 

He  went  to  the  port  and  sleepily  drew  aside  the 
curtain.  The  moon  traced  a  broad  path  of  light 
straight  to  the  ship.  Under  its  rays  the  band 
around  his  chest  gleamed  brighter  and  brighter; 
shot  forth  little  rays;  seemed  to  writhe. 

The  lights  went  out  in  the  cabin;  evidently  also 
throughout  the  ship,  for  I  heard  shoutings  above. 

Throckmartin  still  stood  at  the  open  port. 
Over  his  shoulder  I  saw  a  gleaming  pillar  racing 
along  the  moon  path  toward  us.  Through  the 
window  cascaded  a  blinding  radiance.  It  gathered 


52  The  Moon  Pool 

Throckmartin  to  it,  clothed  him  in  a  robe  of  living 
opalescence.  Light  pulsed  through  and  from 
him.  The  cabin  filled  with  murmurings 

A  wave  of  weakness  swept  over  me,  buried  me  in 
blackness.  When  consciousness  came  back  the 
lights  were  again  burning  brightly. 

But  of  Throckmartin  there  was  no  trace! 


CHAPTER  VI 
"THE  SHINING  DEVIL  TOOK  THEM!" 

MY  colleagues  of  the  Association,  and  you 
others  who  may  read  this  my  narrative,  for  what 
I  did  and  did  not  when  full  realization  returned 
I  must  offer  here,  briefly  as  I  can,  an  explana 
tion;  a  defense — if  you  will. 

My  first  act  was  to  spring  to  the  open  port. 
The  coma  had  lasted  hours,  for  the  moon  was  now 
low  in  the  west!  I  ran  to  the  door  to  sound  the 
alarm.  It  resisted  under  my  frantic  hands; 
would  not  open.  Something  fell  tinkling  to  the 
floor.  It  was  the  key  and  I  remembered  then  that 
Throckmartin  had  turned  it  before  we  began  our 
vigil.  With  memory  a  hope  died  that  I  had  not 
known  was  in  me,  the  hope  that  he  had  escaped 
from  the  cabin,  found  refuge  elsewhere  on  the 
ship. 

And  as  I  stooped,  fumbling  with  shaking 
fingers  for  the  key,  a  thought  came  to  me  that 
drove  again  the  blood  from  my  heart,  held  me 
rigid.  I  could  sound  no  alarm  on  the  Southern 
Queen  for  Throckmartin ! 

Conviction   of  my   appalling  helplessness   was 

53 


54  The  Moon  Pool 

complete.  The  ensemble  of  the  vessel  from  cap 
tain  to  cabin  boy  was,  to  put  it  conservatively, 
average.  None,  I  knew,  save  Throckmartin  and 
myself  had  seen  the  first  apparition  of  the  Dweller. 
Had  they  witnessed  the  second  ?  I  did  not  know, 
nor  could  I  risk  speaking,  not  knowing.  And  not 
seeing  how  could  they  believe?  They  would  have 
thought  me  insane — or  worse;  even,  it  might  be, 
his  murderer. 

I  snapped  off  the  electrics;  waited  and  listened; 
opened  the  door  with  infinite  caution  and  slipped, 
unseen,  into  my  own  stateroom.  The  hours  until 
the  dawn  were  eternities  of  waking  nightmare. 
Reason,  resuming  sway  at  last,  steadied  me. 
Even  had  I  spoken  and  been  believed  where  in 
these  wastes  after  all  the  hours  could  we  search 
for  Throckmartin?  Certainly  the  captain  would 
not  turn  back  to  Port  Moresby.  And  even  if  he 
did  of  what  use  for  me  to  set  forth  for  the  Nan- 
Matal  without  the  equipment  which  Throck 
martin  himself  had  decided  was  necessary  if  one 
hoped  to  cope  with  the  mystery  that  lurked  there? 

There  was  but  one  thing  to  do — follow  his 
instructions;  get  the  paraphernalia  in  Melbourne 
or  Sydney  if  it  were  possible;  if  not  sail  to  America 
as  swiftly  as  might  be,  secure  it  there  and  as 
swiftly  return  to  Ponape.  And  this  I  determined 
to  do. 

Calmness  came  back  to  me  after  I  had  made 
this  decision.  And  when  I  went  up  on  deck  I 
knew  that  I  had  been  right.  They  had  not  seen 


"  The  Shining  Devil  Took  Them !  "  55 

the  Dweller.  They  were  still  discussing  the  darken 
ing  of  the  ship,  talking  of  dynamos  burned  out, 
wires  short  circuited,  a  half  dozen  explanations  of 
the  extinguishment.  Not  until  noon  was  Throck- 
martin's  absence  discovered.  I  told  the  captain 
that  I  had  left  him  early  in  the  evening;  that, 
indeed,  I  knew  him  but  slightly,  after  all.  It 
occurred  to  none  to  doubt  me,  or  to  question  me 
minutely.  Why  should  it  have?  His  strangeness 
had  been  noted,  commented  upon;  all  who  had 
met  him  had  thought  him  half  mad.  I  did  little 
to  discourage  the  impression.  And  so  it  came 
naturally  that  on  the  log  it  was  entered  that  he 
had  fallen  or  leaped  from  the  vessel  some  time 
during  the  night. 

A  report  to  this  effect  was  made  when  we 
entered  Melbourne.  I  slipped  quietly  ashore 
and  in  the  press  of  the  war  news  Throckmartin's 
supposed  fate  won  only  a  few  lines  in  the  news 
papers;  my  own  presence  on  the  ship  and  in  the 
city  passed  unnoticed. 

I  was  fortunate  in  securing  at  Melbourne 
everything  I  needed  except  a  set  of  Becquerel 
ray  condensers — but  these  were  the  very  keystone 
of  my  equipment.  Pursuing  my  search  to  Sydney 
I  was  doubly  fortunate  in  finding  a  firm  who  were 
expecting  these  very  articles  in  a  consignment 
due  them  from  the  States  within  a  fortnight.  I 
settled  down  in  strictest  seclusion  to  await  their 
arrival. 

And  now  it  will  occur  to  you  to  ask  why  I  did 


56  The  Moon  Pool 

not  cable,  during  this  period  of  waiting,  to  the 
Association;  demand  aid  from  it.  Or  why  I  did 
not  call  upon  members  of  the  University  staffs 
of  either  Melbourne  or  Sydney  for  assistance. 
At  the  least,  why  I  did  not  gather,  as  Throck- 
martin  had  hoped  to  do,  a  little  force  of  strong 
men  to  go  with  me  to  the  Nan-Matal. 

To  the  first  two  questions  I  answer  frankly — 
I  did  not  dare.  And  this  reluctance,  this  inhibi 
tion,  every  man  jealous  of  his  scientific  reputation 
will  understand.  The  story  of  Throckmartin, 
the  happenings  I  had  myself  witnessed,  were 
incredible,  abnormal,  outside  the  facts  of  all 
known  science.  I  shrank  from  the  inevitable 
disbelief,  perhaps  ridicule — nay,  perhaps  even 
the  graver  suspicion  that  had  caused  me  to  seal 
my  lips  while  on  the  ship.  Why  I  myself  could 
only  half  believe!  How  then  could  I  hope  to 
convince  others  ? 

And  as  for  the  third  question — I  could  not  take 
men  into  the  range  of  such  a  peril  without  first 
warning  them  of  what  they  might  encounter;  and 
if  I  did  warn  them 

It  was  checkmate!  If  it  also  was  cowardice — 
well,  I  have  atoned  for  it.  But  I  do  not  hold  it 
so;  my  conscience  is  clear. 

That  fortnight  and  the  greater  part  of  another 
passed  before  the  ship  I  awaited  steamed  into 
port.  By  that  time,  between  my  straining  anxiety 
to  be  after  Throckmartin,  the  despairing  thought 
that  every  moment  of  delay  might  be  vital  to 


"  The  Shining  Devil  Took  Them !  "  57 

him  and  his,  and  my  intensely  eager  desire  to 
know  whether  that  shining,  glorious  horror  on  the 
moon  path  did  exist  or  had  been  hallucination,  I 
was  worn  almost  to  the  edge  of  madness. 

At  last  the  condensers  were  in  my  hands.  It 
was  more  than  a  week  later,  however,  before  I 
could  secure  passage  back  to  Port  Moresby  and  it 
was  another  week  still  before  I  started  north  on 
the  Suwarna,  a  swift  little  sloop  with  a  fifty-horse 
power  auxiliary,  heading  straight  for  Ponape  and 
the  Nan-Matal. 

We  sighted  the  Brunhilda  some  five  hundred 
miles  south  of  the  Carolines.  The  wind  had 
fallen  soon  after  Papua  had  dropped  astern.  The 
Suwarna 's  ability  to  make  her  twelve  knots  an 
hour  without  it  had  made  me  very  fully  forgive 
her  for  not  being  as  fragrant  as  the  Javan  flower 
for  which  she  was  named.  Da  Costa,  her  captain, 
was  a  garrulous  Portuguese ;  his  mate  was  a  Canton 
man  with  all  the  marks  of  long  and  able  service 
on  some  pirate  junk;  his  engineer  was  a  half-breed 
Chino-Malay  who  had  picked  up  his  knowledge 
of  power  plants,  Heaven  alone  knew  where,  and, 
I  had  reason  to  believe,  had  transferred  all  his 
religious  impulses  to  the  American  built  deity  of 
mechanism  he  so  faithfully  served.  The  crew  was 
made  up  of  six  huge,  chattering  Tonga  boys. 

The  Suwarna  had  cut  through  Finschafen  Huon 
Gulf  to  the  protection  of  the  Bismarcks.  She 
had  threaded  the  maze  of  the  archipelago  tran- 


58  The  Moon  Pool 

quilly,  and  we  were  then  rolling  over  the  thousand- 
mile  stretch  of  open  ocean  with  New  Hanover  far 
behind  us  and  our  boat's  bow  pointed  straight 
toward  Nukuor  of  the  Monte  Verdes.  After  we 
had  rounded  Nukuor  we  should,  barring  acci 
dent,  reach  Ponape  in  not  more  than  sixty  hours. 

It  was  late  afternoon,  and  on  the  demure  little 
breeze  that  marched  behind  us  came  far-flung 
sighs  of  spice-trees  and  nutmeg  flowers.  The  slow, 
prodigious  swells  of  the  Pacific  lifted  us  in  gentle, 
giant  hands  and  sent  us  as  gently  down  the  long, 
blue  wave  slopes  to  the  next  broad,  upward  slope. 
There  was  a  spell  of  peace  over  the  ocean,  stilling 
even  the  Portuguese  captain  who  stood  dreamily 
at  the  wheel,  slowly  swaying  to  the  rhythmic  Uft 
and  fall  of  the  sloop. 

There  came  a  whining  hail  from  the  Tonga 
boy  lookout  draped  lazily  over  the  bow. 

"Sail  he  b'long  port  side!" 

Da  Costa  straightened  and  gazed  while  I  raised 
my  glass.  The  vessel  was  a  scant  mile  away, 
and  must  have  been  visible  long  before  the  sleepy 
watcher  had  seen  her.  She  was  a  sloop  about  the 
size  of  the  Suwarna,  without  power.  All  sails  set, 
even  to  a  spinnaker  she  carried,  she  was  making 
the  best  of  the  little  breeze.  I  tried  to  read  her 
name,  but  the  vessel  jibed  sharply  as  though  the 
hands  of  the  man  at  the  wheel  had  suddenly 
dropped  the  helm — and  then  with  equal  abruptness 
swung  back  to  her  course.  The  stern  came  in 
sight,  and  on  it  I  read  Brunhilda. 


"  The  Shining  Devil  Took  Them !  "  59 

I  shifted  my  glasses  to  the  man  at  the  wheel. 
He  was  crouching  down  over  the  spokes  in  a  help 
less,  huddled  sort  of  way,  and  even  as  I  looked  the 
vessel  veered  again,  abruptly  as  before.  I  saw 
the  helmsman  straighten  up  and  bring  the  wheel 
about  with  a  vicious  jerk. 

He  stood  so  for  a  moment,  looking  straight 
ahead,  entirely  oblivious  of  us,  and  then  seemed 
again  to  sink  down  within  himself.  It  came  to 
me  that  his  was  the  action  of  a  man  striving  vainly 
against  a  weariness  unutterable.  I  swept  the  deck 
with  my  glasses.  There  was  nc  other  sign  of  life. 
I  turned  to  find  the  Portuguese  staring  intently 
and  with  puzzled  air  at  the  sloop,  now  separated 
from  us  by  a  scant  half  mile. 

"Something  veree  wrong  I  think  there,  sair," 
he  said  in  his  curious  English.  "The  man  on 
deck  I  know.  He  is  captain  and  owner  of  the 
Br-rwun'ild.  His  name  Olaf  Huldricksson,  what 
you  say — Norwegian.  He  is  eithair  veree  sick  or 
veree  tired — but  I  do  not  undweerstand  where  is 
the  crew  and  the  starb'd  boat  is  gone " 

He  shouted  an  order  to  the  engineer  and  as  he 
did  so  the  faint  breeze  failed  and  the  sails  of  the 
Brunhilda  flapped  down  inert.  We  were  now 
nearly  abreast  and  a  scant  hundred  yards  away. 
The  engine  of  the  Suwarna  died  and  the  Tonga 
boys  leaped  to  one  of  the  boats. 

"You  Olaf  Huldricksson!"  shouted  Da  Costa. 
"What's  a  matter  wit'  you?" 

The  man  at  the  wheel  turned  toward  us.     He 


60  The  Moon  Pool 

was  a  giant;  his  shoulders  enormous,  thick  chested, 
strength  in  every  line  of  him,  he  towered  like  a 
viking  of  old  at  the  rudder  bar  of  his  shark  ship. 

I  raised  the  glass  again ;  his  face  sprang  into  the 
lens  and  never  have  I  seen  a  visage  lined  and 
marked  as  though  by  ages  of  unsleeping  misery  as 
was  that  of  Olaf  Huldricksson ! 

The  Tonga  boys  had  the  boat  alongside  and 
were  waiting  at  the  oars.  The  little  captain  was 
dropping  into  it. 

"Wait!"  I  cried.  I  ran  into  my  cabin,  grasped 
my  emergency  medical  kit  and  climbed  down  the 
rope  ladder.  The  Tonga  boys  bent  to  the  oars. 
We  reached  the  side  and  Da  Costa  and  I  each 
seized  a  lanyard  dangling  from  the  stays  and 
swung  ourselves  on  board.  Da  Costa  approached 
Huldricksson  softly. 

"What's  the  matter,  Olaf?"  he  began— and 
then  was  silent,  looking  down  at  the  wheel.  The 
hands  of  Huldricksson  were  lashed  fast  to  the 
spokes  by  thongs  of  thin,  strong  cord;  they  were 
swollen  and  black  and  the  thongs  had  bitten  into 
the  sinewy  wrists  till  they  were  hidden  in  the  out 
raged  flesh,  cutting  so  deeply  that  blood  fell,  slow 
drop  by  drop,  at  his  feet !  We  sprang  toward  him, 
reaching  out  hands  to  his  fetters  to  loose  them. 
Even  as  we  touched  them,  Huldricksson  aimed  a 
vicious  kick  at  me  and  then  another  at  Da  Costa 
which  sent  the  Portuguese  tumbling  into  the 
scuppers. 

"Let  be!"  croaked  Huldricksson;  his  voice  was 


"  The  Shining  Devil  Took  Them ! ''  61 

thick  and  lifeless  as  though  forced  from  a  dead 
throat;  his  lips  were  cracked  and  dry  and  his 
parched  tongue  was  black.  "Let  be!  Go!  Let 
be!" 

The  Portuguese  had  picked  himself  up,  whimper 
ing  with  rage  and  knife  in  hand,  but  as  Huldricks- 
son's  voice  reached  him  he  stopped.  Amazement 
crept  into  his  eyes  and  as  he  thrust  the  blade  back 
into  his  belt  they  softened  with  pity. 

"Something  veree  wrong  wit'  Olaf, "  he  mur 
mured  to  me.  "I  think  he  crazee!"  And  then 
Olaf  Huldricksson  began  to  curse  us.  He  did  not 
speak — he  howled  from  that  hideously  dry  mouth 
his  imprecations.  And  all  the  time  his  red  eyes 
roamed  the  seas  and  his  hands,  clenched  and  rigid 
on  the  wheel,  dropped  blood. 

"I  go  below,"  said  Da  Costa  nervously.  "His 
wife,  his  daughter — "  He  darted  down  the 
companionway  and  was  gone. 

Huldricksson,  silent  once  more,  had  slumped 
down  over  the  wheel. 

Da  Costa's  head  appeared  at  the  top  of  the 
companion  steps. 

"There  is  nobody,  nobody,"  he  paused — then 
— "nobody — nowhere!"  His  hands  flew  out  in  a 
gesture  of  hopeless  incomprehension.  "I  do  not 
understan'." 

Then  Olaf  Huldricksson  opened  his  dry  lips 
and  as  he  spoke  a  chill  ran  through  me,  checking 
my  heart. 

"The   sparkling    devil   took   them!"    croaked 


62  The  Moon  Pool 

Olaf  Huldricksson,  "the  sparkling  devil  took 
them!  Took  my  Helma  and  my  little  Freda! 
The  sparkling  devil  came  down  from  the  moon 
and  took  them!" 

He  swayed;  tears  dripped  down  his  cheeks. 
Da  Costa  moved  toward  him  again  and  again 
Huldricksson  watched  him,  alertly,  wickedly, 
from  his  bloodshot  eyes. 

I  took  a  hypodermic  from  my  case  and  filled  it 
with  morphine.  I  drew  Da  Costa  to  me. 

"Get  to  the  side  of  him, "  I  whispered,  "talk  to 
him."  He  moved  over  toward  the  wheel. 

"Where  is  your  Helma  and  Freda,  Olaf?"  he 
said. 

Huldricksson  turned  his  head  toward  him. 
"The  shining  devil  took  them,"  he  croaked. 
"The  moon  devil  that  spark " 

A  yell  broke  from  him.  I  had  thrust  the  needle 
into  his  arm  just  above  one  swollen  wrist  and  had 
quickly  shot  the  drug  through.  He  struggled  to 
release  himself  and  then  began  to  rock  drunkenly. 
The  morphine,  taking  him  in  his  weakness,  worked 
quickly.  Soon  over  his  face  a  peace  dropped. 
The  pupils  of  the  staring  eyes  contracted.  Once, 
twice,  he  swayed  and  then,  his  bleeding,  prisoned 
hands  held  high  and  still  gripping  the  wheel,  he 
crumpled  to  the  deck. 

With  utmost  difficulty  we  loosed  the  thongs, 
but  at  last  it  was  done.  We  rigged  a  little  swing 
and  the  Tonga  boys  slung  the  great  inert  body 
over  the  side  into  the  dory.  Soon  we  had  Huldricks- 


"  The  Shining  Devil  Took  Them ! "  63 

son  in  my  bunk.  Da  Costa  sent  half  his  crew 
over  to  the  sloop  in  charge  of  the  Cantonese. 
They  took  in  all  sail,  stripping  Huldricksson's 
boat  to  the  masts  and  then  with  the  Brunhilda 
nosing  quietly  along  after  us  at  the  end  of  a  long 
hawser,  one  of  the  Tonga  boys  at  her  wheel,  we 
resumed  the  way  so  enigmatically  interrupted. 

I  cleansed  and  bandaged  the  Norseman's  lacer 
ated  wrists  and  sponged  the  blackened,  parched 
mouth  with  warm  water  and  a  mild  antiseptic. 

Suddenly  I  was  aware  of  Da  Costa's  presence 
and  turned.  His  unease  was  manifest  and  held, 
it  seemed  to  me,  a  queer,  furtive  anxiety. 

"What  you  think  of  Olaf,  sair?"  he  asked.  I 
shrugged  my  shoulders.  "You  think  he  killed 
his  woman  and  his  babee?"  He  went  on.  "You 
think  he  crazee  and  killed  all?" 

"Nonsense,  Da  Costa,"  I  answered.  "You 
saw  the  boat  was  gone.  Most  probably  his  crew 
mutinied  and  to  torture  him  tied  him  up  the  way 
you  saw.  They  did  the  same  thing  with  Hilton 
of  the  Coral  Lady;  you'll  remember." 

"No,  "he  said.  "No.  The  crew  did  not.  No 
body  there  on  board  when  Olaf  was  tied." 

"What!"  I  cried,  startled.  "What  do  you 
mean?" 

"I  mean,"  he  said  slowly,  "that  Olaf  tie  him 
self! 

"Wait!"  he  went  on  at  my  incredulous  gesture 
of  dissent.  "Wait,  I  show  you."  He  had  been 
standing  with  hands  behind  his  back  and  now  I 


64  The  Moon  Pool 

saw  that  he  held  in  them  the  cut  thongs  that  had 
bound  Huldricksson.  They  were  bloodstained 
and  each  ended  in  a  broad  leather  tip  skilfully 
spliced  into  the  cord.  "Look,"  he  said,  pointing 
to  these  leather  ends.  I  looked  and  saw  in  them 
deep  indentations  of  teeth.  I  snatched  one  of  the 
thongs  and  opened  the  mouth  of  the  unconscious 
man  on  the  bunk.  Carefully  I  placed  the  leather 
within  it  and  gently  forced  the  jaws  shut  on  it. 
It  was  true.  Those  marks  were  where  Olaf 
Huldricksson's  jaws  had  gripped ! 

"Wait!"  Da  Costa  repeated,  "I  show  you." 
He  took  other  cords  and  rested  his  hands  on  the 
supports  of  a  chair  back.  Rapidly  he  twisted 
one  of  the  thongs  around  his  left  hand,  drew  a 
loose  knot,  shifted  the  cord  up  toward  his  elbow. 
This  left  wrist  and  hand  still  free  and  with  them 
he  twisted  the  other  cord  around  the  right  wrist; 
drew  a  similar  knot.  His  hands  were  now  in  the 
exact  position  that  Huldricksson's  had  been  on 
the  Brunhilda  but  with  cords  and  knots  hanging 
loose.  Then  Da  Costa  reached  down  his  head, 
took  a  leather  end  in  his  teeth  and  with  a  jerk 
drew  the  thong  that  noosed  his  left  hand  tight; 
similarly  he  drew  tight  the  second. 

He  strained  at  his  fetters.  There  before  my 
eyes  he  had  pinioned  himself  so  that  without  aid 
he  could  not  release  himself.  And  he  was  exactly 
as  Huldricksson  had  been ! 

"You  will  have  to  cut  me  loose,  sair, "  he  said. 
"I  cannot  move  them.  It  is  an  old  trick  on  these 


"  The  Shining  Devil  Took  Them !  "  65 

seas.  Sometimes  it  is  necessary  that  a  man 
stand  at  the  wheel  many  hours,  without  help, 
and  he  does  this  so  that  if  he  sleep  the  wheel  wake 
him,  yes,  sair." 

I  looked  from  him  to  the  man  on  the  bed. 

"But  why,  sair,"  said  Da  Costa  slowly,  "did 
Olaf  have  to  tie  his  hands?" 

I  looked  at  him,  uneasily. 

' '  I  don't  know, ' '  I  answered.     ' '  Do  you  ? ' ' 

He  fidgeted,  avoided  my  eyes,  and  then  rapidly, 
almost  surreptitiously  crossed  himself. 

"No,"  he  replied.  "I  know  nothing.  Some 
things  I  have  heard — but  they  tell  many  tales  on 
these  seas." 

He  started  for  the  door.  Before  he  reached  it  he 
turned.  "But  this  I  do  know, "  he  half  whispered, 
"I  am  damned  glad  there  is  no  full  moon  tonight." 
And  passed  out,  leaving  me  staring  after  him  in 
amazement.  What  did  the  Portuguese  know? 

I  bent  over  the  sleeper.  On  his  face  was  no 
trace  of  that  unholy  mingling  of  opposites  the 
Dweller  stamped  upon  its  victims. 

And  yet — what  was  it  the  Norseman  had  said? 

"The  sparkling  devil  took  them!"  Nay,  he 
had  been  even  more  explicit — "The  sparkling 
devil  that  came  down  from  the  moon ! " 

Could  it  be  that  the  Dweller  had  swept  upon 
the  Brunhilda,  drawing  down  the  moon  path  Olaf 
Huldricksson's  wife  and  babe  even  as  it  had 
drawn  Throckmartin  ? 

As   I   sat   thinking  the  cabin   grew  suddenly 


66  The  Moon  Pool 

dark  and  from  above  came  a  shouting  and  patter 
of  feet.  Down  upon  us  swept  one  of  the  abrupt, 
violent  squalls  that  are  met  with  in  those  latitudes. 
I  lashed  Huldricksson  fast  in  the  berth  and  ran  up 
on  deck. 

The  long,  peaceful  swells  had  changed  into 
angry,  choppy  waves  from  the  tops  of  which  the 
spindrift  streamed  in  long,  stinging  lashes. 

A  half -hour  passed ;  the  squall  died  as  quickly  as 
it  had  arisen.  The  sea  quieted.  Over  in  the  west, 
from  beneath  the  tattered,  flying  edge  of  the  storm, 
dropped  the  red  globe  of  the  setting  sun ;  dropped 
slowly  until  it  touched  the  sea  rim. 

I  watched  it — and  rubbed  my  eyes  and  stared 
again.  For  over  its  flaming  portal  something 
huge  and  black  moved,  like  a  gigantic  beckoning 
finger ! 

Da  Costa  had  seen  it,  too,  and  he  turned  the 
Suwarna  straight  toward  the  descending  orb  and 
its  strange  shadow.  As  we  approached  we  saw  it 
was  a  little  mass  of  wreckage  and  that  the  beckon 
ing  finger  was  a  wing  of  canvas,  sticking  up  and 
swaying  with  the  motion  of  the  waves.  On  the 
highest  point  of  the  wreckage  sat  a  tall  figure 
calmly  smoking  a  cigarette. 

We  brought  the  Suwarna  to,  dropped  a  boat, 
and  with  myself  as  coxswain  pulled  toward  a 
wrecked  hydroairplane.  Its  occupant  took  a 
long  puff  at  his  cigarette,  waved  a  cheerful  hand, 
shouted  a  greeting.  And  just  as  he  did  so  a  great 
wave  raised  itself  up  behind  him,  took  the  wreck- 


"  The  Shining  Devil  Took  Them !  "  67 

age,  tossed  it  high  in  a  swelter  of  foam,  and  passed 
on.  When  we  had  steadied  our  boat,  where  wreck 
and  man  had  been  was — nothing. 

There  came  a  tug  at  the  side — ,  two  muscular 
brown  hands  gripped  it  close  to  my  left,  and  a 
sleek,  black,  wet  head  showed  its  top  between 
them.  Two  bright,  blue  eyes  that  held  deep 
within  them  a  laughing  deviltry  looked  into  mine, 
and  a  long,  lithe  body  drew  itself  gently  over  the 
thwart  and  seated  its  dripping  self  at  my  feet. 

"Much  obliged,"  said  this  man  from  the  sea. 
"I  knew  somebody  was  sure  to  come  along  when 
the  O'Keefe  banshee  didn't  show  up." 

"The  what?"  I  asked  in  amazement. 

"The  O'Keefe  banshee— I'm  Larry  O'Keefe. 
It's  a  far  way  from  Ireland,  but  not  too  far  for 
the  O'Keefe  banshee  to  travel  if  the  O'Keefe  was 
going  to  click  in." 

I  looked  again  at  my  astonishing  rescue.  He 
seemed  perfectly  serious. 

"Have  you  a  cigarette?  Mine  went  out,"  he 
said  with  a  grin,  as  he  reached  a  moist  hand  out 
for  the  little  cylinder,  took  it,  lighted  it. 

I  saw  a  lean,  intelligent  face  whose  fighting 
jaw  was  softened  by  the  wistfulness  of  the  clean- 
cut  lips  and  the  honesty  that  lay  side  by  side 
with  the  deviltry  in  the  laughing  blue  eyes ;  nose  of 
a  thoroughbred  with  the  suspicion  of  a  tilt ;  long, 
well-knit,  slender  figure  that  I  knew  must  have  all 
the  strength  of  fine  steel ;  the  uniform  of  a  lieutenant 
in  the  Royal  Flying  Corps  of  Britain's  navy. 


68  The  Moon  Pool 

He  laughed,  stretched  out  a  firm  hand,  and 
gripped  mine. 

"Thank  you  really  ever  so  much,  old  man," 
he  said. 

I  liked  Larry  O'Keefe  from  the  beginning — 
but  I  did  not  dream  as  the  Tonga  boys  pulled  us 
back  to  the  Suwarna  how  that  liking  was  to  be 
forged  into  man's  strong  love  for  man  by  fires 
which  souls  such  as  his  and  mine — and  yours  who 
read  this — could  never  dream. 

Larry!  Larry  O'Keefe,  where  are  you  now 
with  your  leprechawns  and  banshee,  your  heart 
of  a  child,  your  laughing  blue  eyes,  and  your 
fearless  soul?  Shall  I  ever  see  you  again,  Larry 
O'Keefe,  dear  to  me  as  some  best  beloved  younger 
brother?  Larry! 


CHAPTER  VII 
LARRY  O'KEEFE 

PRESSING  back  the  questions  I  longed  to  ask, 
I  introduced  myself.  Oddly  enough,  I  found 
that  he  knew  me,  or  rather  my  work.  He  had 
bought,  it  appeared,  my  volume  upon  the  peculiar 
vegetation  whose  habitat  is  disintegrating  lava 
rock  and  volcanic  ash,  that  I  had  entitled,  some 
what  loosely,  I  could  now  perceive,  Flora  of  the 
Craters.  For  he  explained  naively  that  he  had 
picked  it  up,  thinking  it  an  entirely  different  sort 
of  book,  a  novel  in  fact — something  like  Meredith's 
Diana  of  the  Crossways,  which  he  liked  greatly. 

He  had  hardly  finished  this  explanation  when  we 
touched  the  side  of  the  Suwarna,  and  I  was  forced 
to  curb  my  curiosity  until  we  reached  the  deck. 

"That  thing  you  saw  me  sitting  on,"  he  said, 
after  he  had  thanked  the  bowing  little  skipper 
for  his  rescue,  "was  all  that  was  left  of  one  of  his 
Majesty's  best  little  hydroairplanes  after  that 
cyclone  threw  it  off  as  excess  baggage.  And  by 
the  way,  about  where  are  we?" 

Da  Costa  gave  him  our  approximate  position 
from  the  noon  reckoning. 

69 


70  The  Moon  Pool 

O'Keefe  whistled.  "A  good  three  hundred 
miles  from  where  I  left  the  H.  M.  S.  Dolphin  about 
four  hours  ago, "  he  said.  "That  squall  I  rode  in 
on  was  some  whizzer ! 

"The  Dolphin,"  he  went  on,  calmly  divesting 
himself  of  his  soaked  uniform,  "was  on  her  way 
to  Melbourne.  I'd  been  yearning  for  a  joy  ride 
and  went  up  for  an  alleged  scouting  trip.  Then 
that  blow  shot  out  of  nowhere,  picked  me  up, 
and  insisted  that  I  go  with  it. 

"About  an  hour  ago  I  thought  I  saw  a  chance  to 
zoom  up  and  out  of  it.  I  turned,  and  blick  went 
my  right  wing,  and  down  I  dropped." 

"  I  don't  know  how  we  can  notify  your  ship, 
Lieutenant  O'Keefe,"  I  said.  "We  have  no 
wireless." 

"Doctair  Goodwin,"  said  Da  Costa,  "we  could 
change  our  course,  sair — perhaps " 

"Thanks— but  not  a  bit  of  it, "  broke  in  O'Keefe. 
"Lord  alone  knows  where  the  Dolphin  is  now. 
Fancy  she'll  be  nosing  around  looking  for  me. 
Anyway,  she's  just  as  apt  to  run  into  you  as  you 
into  her.  Maybe  we'll  strike  something  with  a 
wireless,  and  I'll  trouble  you  to  put  me  aboard." 
He  hesitated.  "Where  are  you  bound,  by  the 
way?"  he  asked. 

"For  Ponape, "  I  answered. 

"No  wireless  there, "  mused  O'Keefe.  "Beastly 
hole.  Stopped  a  week  ago  for  fruit.  Natives 
seemed  scared  to  death  at  us — or  something. 
What  are  you  going  there  for?" 


Larry  O'Keefe  71 

Da  Costa  darted  a  furtive  glance  at  me.  It 
troubled  me. 

O'Keefe  noted  my  hesitation. 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "Maybe 
I  oughtn't  to  have  asked  that?" 

"It's  no  secret,  Lieutenant,"  I  replied.  "I'm 
about  to  undertake  some  exploration  work — 
a  little  digging  among  the  ruins  on  the  Nan- 
Matal." 

I  looked  at  the  Portuguese  sharply  as  I  named 
the  place.  A  pallor  crept  beneath  his  skin  and 
again  he  made  swiftly  the  sign  of  the  cross,  glanc 
ing  as  he  did  so  fearfully  to  the  north.  I  made  up 
my  mind  then  to  question  him  when  opportunity 
came.  He  turned  from  his  quick  scrutiny  of  the 
sea  and  addressed  O'Keefe. 

"There's  nothing  on  board  to  fit  you,  Lieuten 
ant." 

"Oh,  just  give  me  a  sheet  to  throw  around  me, 
Captain, "  said  O'Keefe  and  followed  him.  Dark 
ness  had  fallen,  and  as  the  two  disappeared  into 
Da  Costa's  cabin  I  softly  opened  the  door  of  my 
own  and  listened.  Huldricksson  was  breathing 
deeply  and  regularly. 

I  drew  my  electric-flash,  and  shielding  its  rays 
from  my  face,  looked  at  him.  His  sleep  was 
changing  from  the  heavy  stupor  of  the  drug  into 
one  that  was  at  least  on  the  borderland  of  the 
normal.  The  tongue  had  lost  its  arid  blackness 
and  the  mouth  secretions  had  resumed  action. 
Satisfied  as  to  his  condition  I  returned  to  deck. 


72  The  Moon  Pool 

O'Keefe  was  there,  looking  like  a  spectre  in 
the  cotton  sheet  he  had  wrapped  about  him.  A 
deck  table  had  been  cleated  down  and  one  of  the 
Tonga  boys  was  setting  it  for  our  dinner.  Soon 
the  very  creditable  larder  of  the  Suwarna  dressed 
the  board,  and  O'Keefe,  Da  Costa,  and  I  attacked 
it.  The  night  had  grown  close  and  oppressive. 
Behind  us  the  forward  light  of  the  Brunhilda 
glided  and  the  binnacle  lamp  threw  up  a  faint 
glow  in  which  her  black  helmsman's  face  stood  out 
mistily.  O'Keefe  had  looked  curiously  a  number 
of  times  at  our  tow,  but  had  asked  no  questions. 

"You're  not  the  only  passenger  we  picked  up 
today,"  I  told  him.  "We  found  the  captain  of 
that  sloop,  lashed  to  his  wheel,  nearly  dead  with 
exhaustion,  and  his  boat  deserted  by  everyone 
except  himself." 

"What  was  the  matter?"  asked  O'Keefe  in 
astonishment. 

"We  don't  know,"  I  answered.  "He  fought 
us,  and  I  had  to  drug  him  before  we  could  get  him 
loose  from  his  lashings.  He's  sleeping  down  in 
my  berth  now.  His  wife  and  little  girl  ought  to 
have  been  on  board,  the  captain  here  says,  but — 
they  weren't." 

"Wife  and  child  gone!"  exclaimed  O'Keefe. 

"From  the  condition  of  his  mouth  he  must 
have  been  alone  at  the  wheel  and  without  water 
at  least  twc  days  and  nights  before  we  found  him, " 
I  replied.  "And  as  for  looking  for  any  one  on 
these  waters  after  such  a  time — it's  hopeless." 


Larry  O'Keefe  73 

"That's  true,"  said  O'Keefe.  "But  his  wife 
and  baby !  Poor,  poor  devil ! ' ' 

He  was  silent  for  a  time,  and  then,  at  my  solici 
tation,  began  to  tell  us  more  of  himself.  He  had 
been  little  more  than  twenty  when  he  had  won  his 
wings  and  entered  the  war.  He  had  been  seri 
ously  wounded  at  Ypres  during  the  third  year 
of  the  struggle,  and  when  he  recovered  the  war 
was  over.  Shortly  after  that  his  mother  had  died. 
Lonely  and  restless,  he  had  re-entered  the  Air 
Service,  and  had  remained  in  it  ever  since. 

"And  though  the  war's  long  over,  I  get  homesick 
for  the  lark's  land  with  the  German  planes  playing 
tunes  on  their  machine  guns  and  their  Archies 
tickling  the  soles  of  my  feet,"  he  sighed.  "If 
you're  in  love,  love  to  the  limit;  and  if  you  hate, 
why  hate  like  the  devil;  and  if  it's  a  fight  you're  in, 
get  where  it's  hottest  and  fight  like  hell — if  you 
don't  life's  not  worth  the  living, "  sighed  he. 

I  watched  him  as  he  talked,  feeling  my  liking 
for  him  steadily  increasing.  If  I  could  but  have 
a  man  like  this  beside  me  on  the  path  of  unknown 
peril  upon  which  I  had  set  my  feet  I  thought, 
wistfully.  We  sat  and  smoked  a  bit,  sipping  the 
strong  coffee  the  Portuguese  made  so  well. 

Da  Costa  at  last  relieved  the  Cantonese  at  the 
wheel.  O'Keefe  and  I  drew  chairs  up  to  the  rail. 
The  brighter  stars  shone  out  dimly  through  a  hazy 
sky;  gleams  of  phosphorescence  tipped  the  crests 
of  the  waves  and  sparkled  with  an  almost  angry 
brilliance  as  the  bow  of  the  Suwarna  tossed  them 


74  The  Moon  Pool 

aside.  O'Keefe  pulled  contentedly  at  a  cigarette. 
The  glowing  spark  lighted  the  keen,  boyish  face 
and  the  blue  eyes,  now  black  and  brooding  under 
the  spell  of  the  tropic  night. 

"Are  you  American  or  Irish,  O'Keefe?"  I  asked 
suddenly. 

"Why?  "he  laughed. 

"Because,"  I  answered,  "from  your  name  and 
your  service  I  would  suppose  you  Irish — but  your 
command  of  pureAmericanese  makes  me  doubtful." 

He  grinned  amiably. 

"I'll  tell  you  how  that  is,"  he  said.  "My 
mother  was  an  American — a  Grace,  of  Virginia. 
My  father  was  the  O'Keefe,  of  Coleraine.  And 
these  two  loved  each  other  so  well  that  the  heart 
they  gave  me  is  half  Irish  and  half  American.  My 
father  died  when  I  was  sixteen.  I  used  to  go  to 
the  States  with  my  mother  every  other  year  for 
a  month  or  two.  But  after  my  father  died  we 
used  to  go  to  Ireland  every  other  year.  And  there 
you  are — I'm  as  much  American  as  I  am  Irish. 

"When  I'm  in  love,  or  excited,  or  dreaming,  or 
mad  I  have  the  brogue.  But  for  the  everyday 
purposes  of  life  I  like  the  United  States  talk,  and 
I  know  Broadway  as  well  as  I  do  Binevenagh 
Lane,  and  the  Sound  as  well  as  St.  Patrick's 
Channel;  educated  a  bit  at  Eton,  a  bit  at  Har 
vard;  always  too  much  money  to  have  to  make 
any;  in  love  lots  of  times,  and  never  a  heartache 
after  that  wasn't  a  pleasant  one,  and  never  a  real 
purpose  in  life  until  I  took  the  king's  shilling  and 


Larry  O'Keefe  75 

earned  my  wings;  something  over  thirty — and 
that's  me— Larry  O'Keefe." 

"But  it  was  the  Irish  O'Keefe  who  sat  out  there 
waiting  for  the  banshee, "  I  laughed. 

"It  was  that,"  he  said  somberly,  and  I  heard 
the  brogue  creep  over  his  voice  like  velvet  and  his 
eyes  grew  brooding  again.  "There's  never  an 
O'Keefe  for  these  thousand  years  that  has  passed 
without  his  warning.  An'  twice  have  I  heard  the 
banshee  calling — once  it  was  when  my  younger 
brother  died  an'  once  when  my  father  lay  waiting 
to  be  carried  out  on  the  ebb  tide." 

He  mused  a  moment,  then  went  on:  "An' 
once  I  saw  an  Annir  Choille,  a  girl  of  the  green 
people,  flit  like  a  shade  of  green  fire  through 
Carntogher  woods,  an'  once  at  Dunchraig  I  slept 
where  the  ashes  of  the  Dun  of  Cormac  Mac- 
Concobar  are  mixed  with  those  of  Cormac  an' 
Eilidh  the  Fair,  all  burned  in  the  nine  flames  that 
sprang  from  the  harping  of  Cravetheen,  an'  I 
heard  the  echo  of  his  dead  harpings " 

He  paused  again  and  then,  softly,  with  that 
curiously  sweet,  high  voice  that  only  the  Irish 
seem  to  have,  he  sang : 

Woman  of  the  white  breasts,  Eilidh ; 

Woman  of  the  gold-brown  hair,  and  lips  of  the  red,  red 

rowan, 
Where  is  the  swan  that  is  whiter,  with  breast  more 

soft, 
Or  the  wave  on  the  sea  that  moves  as  thou  movest, 

Eilidh. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
OLAF'S  STORY 

THERE  was  a  little  silence.  I  looked  upon 
him  with  wonder.  Clearly  he  was  in  deepest 
earnest.  I  know  the  psychology  of  the  Gael  is  a 
curious  one  and  that  deep  in  all  their  hearts  their 
ancient  traditions  and  beliefs  have  strong  and 
living  roots.  And  I  was  both  amused  and  touched. 

Here  was  this  soldier,  who  had  faced  war  and  its 
ugly  realities  open-eyed  and  fearless,  picking,  in 
deed,  the  most  dangerous  branch  of  service  for  his 
own,  a  modern  if  ever  there  was  one,  appreciative 
of  most  unmystical  Broadway,  and  yet  soberly 
and  earnestly  attesting  to  his  belief  in  banshee,  in 
shadowy  people  of  the  woods,  and  phantom  harp 
ers  !  I  wondered  what  h  e  would  think  if  he  could 
see  the  Dweller  and  then,  with  a  pang,  that  perhaps 
his  superstitions  might  make  him  an  easy  prey. 

He  shook  his  head  half  impatiently  and  ran 
a  hand  over  his  eyes;  turned  to  me  and  grinned. 

"Don't  think  I'm  cracked,  Professor,"  he 
said.  "I'm  not.  But  it  takes  me  that  way 
now  and  then.  It's  the  Irish  in  me.  And,  believe 
it  or  not,  I'm  telling  you  the  truth." 

76 


Olaf's  Story  77 

I  looked  eastward  where  the  moon,  now  nearly 
a  week  past  the  full,  was  mounting. 

"You  can't  make  me  see  what  you've  seen, 
Lieutenant,"  I  laughed.  "But  you  can  make  me 
hear.  I've  always  wondered  what  kind  of  a  noise 
a  disembodied  spirit  could  make  without  any  vocal 
cords  or  breath  or  any  other  earthly  sound- 
producing  mechanism.  How  does  the  banshee 
sound?" 

O'Keefe  looked  at  me  seriously. 

"All  right,"  he  said.  "I'll  show  you."  From 
deep  down  in  his  throat  came  first  a  low,  weird 
sobbing  that  mounted  steadily  into  a  keening 
whose  mournfulness  made  my  skin  creep.  And 
then  his  hand  shot  out  and  gripped  my  shoulder, 
and  I  stiffened  like  stone  in  my  chair — for  from 
behind  us,  like  an  echo,  and  then  taking  up  the 
cry,  swelled  a  wail  that  seemed  to  hold  within  it 
a  sublimation  of  the  sorrows  of  centuries!  It 
gathered  itself  into  one  heartbroken,  sobbing  note 
and  died  away!  O'Keefe's  grip  loosened,  and  he 
rose  swiftly  to  his  feet. 

"It's  all  right,  Professor,"  he  said.  "It's  for 
me.  It  found  me — all  this  way  from  Ireland." 

Again  the  silence  was  rent  by  the  cry.  But  now 
I  had  located  it.  It  came  from  my  room,  and  it 
could  mean  only  one  thing — Huldricksson  had 
wakened. 

"Forget  your  banshee!"  I  gasped,  and  made  a 
jump  for  the  cabin. 

Out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye  I  noted  a  look  of 


78  The  Moon  Pool 

half-sheepish  relief  flit  over  O'Keefe's  face,  and 
then  he  was  beside  me.  Da  Costa  shouted  an 
order  from  the  wheel,  the  Cantonese  ran  up  and 
took  it  from  his  hands  and  the  little  Portuguese 
pattered  down  toward  us.  My  hand  on  the  door, 
ready  to  throw  it  open,  I  stopped.  What  if  the 
Dweller  were  within — what  if  we  had  been  wrong 
and  it  was  not  dependent  for  its  power  upon  that 
full  flood  of  moon  ray  which  Throckmartin  had 
thought  essential  to  draw  it  from  the  blue  pool ! 

From  within,  the  sobbing  wail  began  once  more 
to  rise.  O'Keefe  pushed  me  aside,  threw  open  the 
door  and  crouched  low  within  it.  I  saw  an  auto 
matic  flash  dully  in  his  hand ;  saw  it  cover  the  cabin 
from  side  to  side,  following  the  swift  sweep  of 
his  eyes  around  it.  Then  he  straightened  and 
his  face,  turned  toward  the  berth,  was  filled  with 
wondering  pity. 

Through  the  window  streamed  a  shaft  of  the 
moonlight.  It  fell  upon  Huldricksson's  staring 
eyes;  in  them  great  tears  slowly  gathered  and 
rolled  down  his  cheeks;  from  his  opened  mouth 
came  the  wo-laden  wailing.  I  ran  to  the  port 
and  drew  the  curtains.  Da  Costa  snapped  the 
lights. 

The  Norseman's  dolorous  crying  stopped  as 
abruptly  as  though  cut.  His  gaze  rolled  toward 
us.  And  at  one  bound  he  broke  through  the 
leashes  I  had  buckled  round  him  and  faced  us,  his 
eyes  glaring,  his  yellow  hair  almost  erect  with  the 
force  of  the  rage  visibly  surging  through  him.  Da 


Olaf  s  Story  79 

Costa  shrunk  behind  me.  O'Keefe,  coolly  watch 
ful,  took  a  quick  step  that  brought  him  in  front 
of  me. 

"Where  do  you  take  me?"  said  Huldricksson, 
and  his  voice  was  like  the  growl  of  a  beast.  ' '  Where 
is  my  boat?" 

I  touched  O'Keefe  gently  and  stood  before 
the  giant. 

"Listen,  Olaf  Huldricksson,"  I  said.  "We 
take  you  to  where  the  sparkling  devil  took  your 
Helma  and  your  Freda.  We  follow  the  sparkling 
devil  that  came  down  from  the  moon.  Do  you 
hear  me?"  I  spoke  slowly,  distinctly,  striving  to 
pierce  the  mists  that  I  knew  swirled  around  the 
strained  brain.  And  the  words  did  pierce. 

He  thrust  out  a  shaking  hand. 

"You  say  you  follow?"  he  asked  falteringly. 
"You  know  where  to  follow?  Where  it  took  my 
Helma  and  my  little  Freda?" 

"Just  that,  Olaf  Huldricksson,"  I  answered. 
"Just  that!  I  pledge  you  my  life  that  I  know." 

Da  Costa  stepped  forward.  "He  speaks  true, 
Olaf.  You  go  faster  on  the  Suwarna  than  on  the 
Br-rw-urtilda,  Olaf,  yes." 

The  giant  Norseman,  still  gripping  my  hand, 
looked  at  him.  "I  know  you  Da  Costa,"  he 
muttered.  "You  are  all  right.  Jal  You  are  a 
fair  man.  Where  is  the  Brunhilda  ?  " 

"She  follow  be'ind  on  a  big  rope,  Olaf, "  soothed 
the  Portuguese.  "Soon  you  see  her.  But  now 
lie  down  an'  tell  us,  if  you  can,  why  you  tie  your- 


80  The  Moon  Pool 

self  to  your  wheel  an'  what  it  is  that  happen, 
Olaf." 

"If  you'll  tell  us  how  the  sparkling  devil  came  it 
will  help  us  all  when  we  get  to  where  it  is,  Huld- 
ricksson, "  I  said. 

On  O'Keefe's  face  there  was  an  expression  of 
wellnigh  ludicrous  doubt  and  amazement.  He 
glanced  from  one  to  the  other.  The  giant  shifted 
his  own  tense  look  from  me  to  the  Irishman.  A 
gleam  of  approval  lighted  in  his  eyes.  He  loosed 
me,  and  gripped  O'Keefe's  arm.  "Staerk!"  he- 
said.  tlJa — strong,  and  with  a  strong  heart.  A 
man — -jal  He  comes  too — we  shall  need  him — 

jar 

"I  tell,"  he  muttered,  and  seated  himself  on 
the  side  of  the  bunk.  "It  was  four  nights  ago. 
My  Freda" — his  voice  shook — "Mine  Yndling! 
She  loved  the  moonlight.  I  was  at  the  wheel  and 
my  Freda  and  my  Helma  they  were  behind  me. 
The  moon  was  behind  us  and  the  Brunhilda  was 
like  a  swan-boat  sailing  down  with  the  moonlight 
sending  her,  ja. 

"I  heard  my  Freda  say:  'I  see  a  nisse  coming 
down  the  track  of  the  moon.'  And  I  hear  her 
mother  laugh,  low,  like  a  mother  does  when  her 
Yndling  dreams.  I  was  happy — that  night — with 
my  Helma  and  my  Freda,  and  the  Brunhilda 
sailing  like  a  swan-boat,  ja.  I  heard  the  child 
say,  'The  nisse  comes  fast! '  And  then  I  heard  a 
scream  from  my  Helma,  a  great  scream — like  a 
mare  when  her  foal  is  torn  from  her.  I  spun 


Olaf's  Story  81 

round  fast,  ja!  I  dropped  the  wheel  and  spun 
fast!  I  saw — "  He  covered  his  eyes  with  his 
hands. 

The  Portuguese  had  crept  close  to  me,  and  I 
heard  him  panting  like  a  frightened  dog. 

"I  saw  a  white  fire  spring  over  the  rail, "  whis 
pered  Olaf  Huldricksson.  "It  whirled  round  and 
round,  and  it  shone  like — like  stars  in  a  whirlwind 
mist.  There  was  a  noise  in  my  ears.  It  sounded 
like  bells — little  bells,  ja!  Like  the  music  you 
make  when  you  run  your  finger  round  goblets. 
It  made  me  sick  and  dizzy — the  bell  noise. 

"My  Helma  was — indeholde — what  you  say — 
in  the  middle  of  the  white  fire.  She  turned  her 
face  to  me  and  she  turned  it  on  the  child,  and  my 
Helma's  face  burned  into  my  heart.  Because  it 
was  full  of  fear,  and  it  was  full  of  happiness — of 
glyaede.  I  tell  you  that  the  fear  in  my  Helma's 
face  made  me  ice  here" — he  beat  his  breast  with 
clenched  hand — "but  the  happiness  in  it  burned 
on  me  like  fire.  And  I  could  not  move — I  could 
not  move. 

"I  said  in  here" — he  touched  his  head — "I 
said,  'It  is  Loki  come  out  of  Helvede.  But  he 
cannot  take  my  Helma,  for  Christ  lives  and  Loki 
has  no  power  to  hurt  my  Helma  or  my  Freda! 
Christ  lives !  Christ  lives ! '  I  said.  But  the 
sparkling  devil  did  not  let  my  Helma  go.  It 
drew  her  to  the  rail;  half  over  it.  I  saw  her  eyes 
upon  the  child  and  a  little  she  broke  away  and 
reached  to  it.  And  my  Freda  jumped  into  her 


82  The  Moon  Pool 

arms.  And  the  fire  wrapped  them  both  and  they 
were  gone!  A  little  I  saw  them  whirling  on  the 
moon  track  behind  the  Brunhilda — and  they  were 
gone! 

"The  sparkling  devil  took  them!  Loki  was 
loosed,  and  he  had  power.  I  turned  the  Brun 
hilda,  and  I  followed  where  my  Helma  and  mine 
Yndling  had  gone.  My  boys  crept  up  and  asked 
me  to  turn  again.  But  I  would  not.  They 
dropped  a  boat  and  left  me.  I  steered  straight 
on  the  path.  I  lashed  my  hands  to  the  wheel 
that  sleep  might  not  loose  them.  I  steered  on  and 
on  and  on 

"Where  was  the  God  I  prayed  when  my  wife 
and  child  were  taken?"  cried  Olaf  Huldricksson — 
and  it  was  as  though  I  heard  Throckmartin 
asking  that  same  bitter  question.  "I  have  left 
Him  as  He  left  me,  ja  !  I  pray  now  to  Thor  and 
to  Odin,  who  can  fetter  Loki. "  He  sank  back, 
covering  again  his  eyes. 

"Olaf,"  I  said,  "what  you  have  called  the 
sparkling  devil  has  taken  ones  dear  to  me.  I,  too, 
was  following  it  when  we  found  you.  You  shall 
go  with  me  to  its  home,  and  there  we  will  try  to 
take  from  it  your  wife  and  your  child  and  my 
friends  as  well.  But  now  that  you  may  be  strong 
for  what  is  before  us,  you  must  sleep  again." 

Olaf  Huldricksson  looked  upon  me  and  in  his 
eyes  was  that  something  which  souls  must  see 
in  the  eyes  of  Him  the  old  Egyptians  called  the 
Searcher  of  Hearts  in  the  Judgment  Hall  of  Osiris. 


Olaf's  Story  83 

"You  speak  truth!"  he  said  at  last  slowly. 
"I  will  do  what  you  say!" 

He  stretched  out  an  arm  at  my  bidding.  I 
gave  him  a  second  injection.  He  lay  back  and 
soon  he  was  sleeping.  I  turned  toward  Da  Costa. 
His  face  was  livid  and  sweating,  and  he  was 
trembling  pitiably.  O'Keefe  stirred. 

"You  did  that  mighty  well,  Dr.  Goodwin," 
he  said.  "So  well  that  I  almost  believed  you 
myself." 

"What  did  you  think  of  his  story,  Mr.  O'Keefe?" 
I  asked. 

His  answer  was  almost  painfully  brief  and  collo 
quial. 

"Nuts!"  he  said.  I  was  a  little  shocked,  I 
admit.  "I  think  he's  crazy,  Dr.  Goodwin,"  he 
corrected  himself,  quickly.  "What  else  could  I 
think?" 

I  turned  to  the  little  Portuguese  without 
answering. 

"There's  no  need  for  any  anxiety  tonight, 
Captain,"  I  said.  "Take  my  word  for  it.  You 
need  some  rest  yourself.  Shall  I  give  you  a 
sleeping  draft?" 

"I  do  wish  you  would,  Dr.  Goodwin,  sair, "  he 
answered  gratefully.  "Tomorrow,  when  I  feel 
bettair — I  would  have  a  talk  with  you." 

I  nodded.  He  did  know  something  then!  I 
mixed  him  an  opiate  of  considerable  strength. 
He  took  it  and  went  to  his  own  cabin. 

I  locked  the  door  behind  him  and  then,  sitting 


84  The  Moon  Pool 

beside  the  sleeping  Norseman,  I  told  O'Keefe  my 
story  from  end  to  end.  He  asked  few  questions 
as  I  spoke.  But  after  I  had  finished  he  cross- 
examined  me  rather  minutely  upon  my  recollec 
tions  of  the  radiant  phases  upon  each  appearance, 
checking  these  with  Throckmartin's  observations 
of  the  same  phenomena  in  the  Chamber  of  the 
Moon  Pool. 

' '  And  now  what  do  you  think  of  it  all  ? "    I  asked. 

He  sat  silent  for  a  while,  looking  at  Huldricks- 
son. 

"Not  what  you  seem  to  think,  Dr.  Good 
win,"  he  answered  at  last,  gravely.  "Let  me 
sleep  over  it.  One  thing  of  course  is  certain — 
you  and  your  friend  Throckmartin  and  this  man 
here  saw — something.  But — "  he  was  silent 
again  and  then  continued  with  a  kindness  that  I 
found  vaguely  irritating — "but  I've  noticed  that 
when  a  scientist  gets  superstitious  it — er — takes 
very  hard ! 

"Here's  a  few  things  I  can  tell  you  now  though, " 
he  went  on  while  I  struggled  to  speak — "I  pray 
in  my  heart  that  we'll  meet  neither  the  Dolphin 
nor  anything  with  wireless  on  board  going  up. 
Because,  Dr.  Goodwin,  I'd  dearly  love  to  take  a 
crack  at  your  Dweller. 

"And  another  thing,"  said  O'Keefe.  "After 
this — cut  out  the  trimmings,  Doc,  and  call  me 
plain  Larry,  for  whether  I  think  you're  crazy  or 
whether  I  don't  you're  there  with  the  nerve, 
Professor,  and  I'm  for  you. 


Olaf  s  Story  85 

"Good  night!"  said  Larry  and  took  himself 
out  to  the  deck  hammock  he  had  insisted  upon 
having  slung  for  him,  refusing  the  captain's 
importunities  to  use  his  own  cabin. 

And  it  was  with  extremely  mixed  emotions 
as  to  his  compliment  that  I  watched  him  go. 
Superstitious!  I,  whose  pride  was  my  scientific 
devotion  to  fact  and  fact  alone!  Superstitious — 
and  this  from  a  man  who  believed  in  banshees  and 
ghostly  harpers  and  Irish  wood  nymphs  and  no 
doubt  in  leprechawns  and  all  their  tribe! 

Half  laughing,  half  irritated,  and  wholly  happy 
in  even  the  part  promise  of  Larry  O'Keefe's  com 
radeship  on  my  venture,  I  arranged  a  couple  of 
pillows,  stretched  myself  out  on  two  chairs  and 
took  up  my  vigil  beside  Olaf  Huldricksson. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  LOST  PAGE  OF  EARTH 

WHEN  I  awakened  the  sun  was  streaming 
through  the  cabin  porthole.  Outside  a  fresh  voice 
lilted.  I  lay  on  my  two  chairs  and  listened.  The 
song  was  one  with  the  wholesome  sunshine  and 
the  breeze  blowing  stiffly  and  whipping  the 
curtains.  It  was  Larry  O'Keefe  at  his  matins: 

The  little  red  lark  is  shaking  his  wings, 
Straight  from  the  breast  of  his  love  he  springs. 

Larry's  voice  soared. 

His  wings  and  his  feathers  are  sunrise  red. 
He  hails  the  sun  and  his  golden  head, 
Good  morning,  Doc,  you  are  long  abed. 

This  last  was  a  most  irreverent  interpolation,  I 
well  knew.  I  opened  my  door.  O'Keefe  stood 
outside,  laughing.  The  Suwarna,  her  engines 
silent,  was  making  fine  headway  under  all  sail,  the 
Brunhilda  skipping  in  her  wake  cheerfully  with 
half  her  canvas  up. 

The  sea  was  crisping  and  dimpling  under  the 

86 


A  Lost  Page  of  Earth          87 

wind.  Blue  and  white  was  the  world  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach.  Schools  of  little  silvery  green, 
flying  fish  broke  through  the  water  rushing  on 
each  side  of  us;  flashed  for  an  instant  and  were 
gone.  Behind  us  gulls  hovered  and  dipped.  The 
shadow  of  mystery  had  retreated  far  over  the 
rim  of  this  wide  awake  and  beautiful  world  and  if, 
subconsciously,  I  knew  that  somewhere  it  was 
brooding  and  waiting,  for  a  little  while  at  least  I 
was  consciously  free  of  its  oppression. 

"How's  the  patient?"  asked  O'Keefe. 

He  was  answered  by  Huldricksson  himself, 
who  must  have  risen  just  as  I  left  the  cabin.  The 
Norseman  had  slipped  on  a  pair  of  pajamas  and, 
giant  torso  naked  under  the  sun,  he  strode  out 
upon  us.  We  all  of  us  looked  at  him  a  trifle 
anxiously.  But  Olaf's  madness  had  left  him. 
In  his  eyes  was  much  sorrow,  but  the  berserk  rage 
was  gone. 

He  spoke  straight  to  me:  "You  said  last  night 
we  follow?" 

I  nodded. 

"It  is  where?"  he  asked  again. 

"We  go  first  to  Ponape  and  from  there  to 
Metalanim  Harbour — to  the  Nan-Matal.  You 
know  the  place?" 

Huldricksson  bowed — a  white  gleam  as  of  ice 
showing  in  his  blue  eyes. 

"It  is  there?"  he  asked. 

"It  is  there  that  we  must  first  search,"  I 
answered. 


88  The  Moon  Pool 

"Good!"  said  Olaf  Huldricksson.     "It  is  good!" 

He  looked  at  Da  Costa  inquiringly  and  the  little 
Portuguese,  following  his  thought,  answered  his 
unspoken  question. 

"We  should  be  at  Ponape  tomorrow  morning 
early,  Olaf." 

"Good!"  repeated  the  Norseman.  He  looked 
away,  his  eyes  tear  filled. 

A  restraint  fell  upon  us;  the  embarrassment  all 
men  experience  when  they  feel  a  great  sympathy 
and  a  great  pity,  to  neither  of  which  they  quite 
know  how  to  give  expression.  By  silent  consent 
we  discussed  at  breakfast  only  the  most  casual 
topics. 

When  the  meal  was  over  Huldricksson  expressed 
a  desire  to  go  aboard  the  Brunhilda. 

The  Suwarna  hove  to  and  Da  Costa  and  he 
dropped  into  the  small  boat.  When  they  reached 
the  Brunhilda 's  deck  I  saw  Olaf  take  the  wheel 
and  the  two  fall  into  earnest  talk.  I  beckoned 
to  O'Keefe  and  we  stretched  ourselves  out  on  the 
bow  hatch  under  cover  of  the  foresail.  He  lighted 
a  cigarette,  took  a  couple  of  leisurely  puffs,  and 
looked  at  me  expectantly. 

"Well?"  I  asked. 

"Well,"  said  O'Keefe,  "suppose  you  tell  me 
what  you  think — and  then  I'll  proceed  to  point 
out  your  scientific  errors."  His  eyes  twinkled 
mischievously. 

"Larry,"  I  replied,  somewhat  severely,  "you 
may  not  know  that  I  have  a  scientific  reputation 


A  Lost  Page  of  Earth  89 

which,  putting  aside  all  modesty,  I  may  say  is  an 
enviable  one.  You  used  a  word  last  night  to 
which  I  must  interpose  serious  objection.  You 
more  than  hinted  that  I  had — superstitions.  Let 
me  inform  you,  Larry  O'Keefe,  that  I  am  solely  a 
seeker,  observer,  analyst,  and  synthesist  of  facts. 
I  am  not" — and  I  tried  to  make  my  tone  as 
pointed  as  my  words — "I  am  not  a  believer  in 
phantoms  or  spooks,  leprechawns,  banshees,  or 
ghostly  harpers. ' ' 

O'Keefe  leaned  back  and  shouted  with  laughter. 

"Forgive  me,  Goodwin,"  he  gasped.  "But 
if  you  could  have  seen  yourself  solemnly  disclaim 
ing  the  banshee" — another  twinkle  showed  in 
his  eyes — "and  then  with  all  this  sunshine  and 
this  wide-open  world" — he  shrugged  his  shoulders 
— "it's  hard  to  visualize  anything  such  as  you  and 
Huldricksson  have  described." 

"I  know  how  hard  it  is,  Larry,"  I  answered. 
"And  don't  think  I  have  any  idea  that  the  pheno 
menon  is  supernatural  in  the  sense  spiritualists 
and  table  turners  have  given  that  word.  I  do 
think  it  is  supernormal;  energized  by  a  force 
unknown  to  modern  science — but  that  doesn't 
mean  I  think  it  outside  the  radius  of  science." 

"Tell  me  your  theory,  Goodwin,"  he  said.  I 
hesitated — for  not  yet  had  I  been  able  to  put  into 
form  to  satisfy  myself  any  explanation  of  the 
Dweller. 

"I  think,"  I  hazarded  finally,  "it  is  possible 
that  some  members  of  that  race  peopling  the 


90  The  Moon  Pool 

ancient  continent  which  we  know  existed  here  in 
the  Pacific,  have  survived.  We  know  that  many 
of  these  islands  are  honeycombed  with  caverns 
and  vast  subterranean  spaces,  literally  under 
ground  lands  running  in  some  cases  far  out  beneath 
the  ocean  floor.  It  is  possible  that  for  some 
reason  survivors  of  this  race  sought  refuge  in  the 
abyssmal  spaces,  one  of  whose  entrances  is  on  the 
islet  where  Throckmartin's  party  met  its  end. 

"As  for  their  persistence  in  these  caverns — we 
know  they  possessed  a  high  science.  They  may 
have  gone  far  in  the  mastery  of  certain  universal 
forms  of  energy — especially  that  we  call  light. 
They  may  have  developed  a  civilization  and  a 
science  far  more  advanced  than  ours.  What  I  call 
the  Dweller  may  be  one  of  the  results  of  this  science. 
Larry — it  may  well  be  that  this  lost  race  is 
planning  to  emerge  again  upon  earth's  surface!" 

"And  is  sending  out  your  Dweller  as  a  messen 
ger,  a  scientific  dove  from  their  Ark?"  I  choose  to 
overlook  the  banter  in  his  question. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  Chamats?"  I  asked 
him.  He  shook  his  head. 

"In  Papua,"  I  explained,  "there  is  a  wide 
spread  and  immeasurably  old  tradition  that 
'imprisoned  under  the  hills'  is  a  race  of  giants 
who  once  ruled  this  region  'when  it  stretched  from 
sun  to  sun  before  the  moon  god  drew  the  waters 
over  it' — I  quote  from  the  legend.  Not  only  in 
Papua  but  throughout  Malaysia  you  find  this 
Itory.  And,  so  the  tradition  runs,  these  people — 


A  Lost  Page  of  Earth  91 

the  Chamats  will  one  day  break  through  the  hills 
and  rule  the  world;  'make  over  the  world'  is  the 
literal  translation  of  the  constant  phrase  in  the 
tale.  It  was  Herbert  Spencer  who  pointed  out 
that  there  is  a  basis  of  fact  in  every  myth  and 
legend  of  man.  It  is  possible  that  these  survivors 
I  am  discussing  form  Spencer's  fact  basis  for  the 
Malaysian  legend. T 

"This  much  is  sure — the  moon  door,  which  is 
clearly  operated  by  the  action  of  moon  rays  upon 
some  unknown  element  or  combination  and  the 
crystals  through  which  the  moon  rays  pour  down 
upon  the  pool  their  prismatic  columns,  are  humanly 
made  mechanisms.  So  long  as  they  are  humanly 
made,  and  so  long  as  it  is  this  flood  of  moonlight 
from  which  the  Dweller  draws  its  power  of 
materialization,  the  Dweller  itself,  if  not  the 
product  of  the  human  mind  is  at  least  dependent 
upon  the  product  of  the  human  mind  for  its 
appearance." 

"Wait  a  minute,  Good  win,  "interrupted  O'Keefe. 
"Do  you  mean  to  say  you  think  that  this  thing 
is  made  of — well — of  moonshine?" 

"Moonlight,"  I  replied,  "is,  of  course,  reflected 
sunlight.  But  the  rays  which  pass  back  to  earth 
after  their  impact  on  the  moon's  surface  are  pro- 

1  William  Beebe,  the  famous  American  naturalist  and  orni 
thologist,  recently  fighting  in  France  with  America's  air  forces, 
called  attention  to  this  remarkable  belief  in  an  article  printed 
not  long  ago  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly.  Still  more  significant  was 
it  that  he  noted  a  persistent  rumour  that  the  breaking  out  of  the 
buried  race  was  close.  W.  J.  B.,  Pres.  I.  A.  of  S. 


92  The  Moon  Pool 

foundly  changed.  The  spectroscope  shows  that 
they  lose  practically  all  the  slower  vibrations  we 
call  red  and  infra-red,  while  the  extremely  rapid 
vibrations  we  call  the  violet  and  ultra-violet  are 
accelerated  and  altered.  Many  scientists  hold 
that  there  is  an  unknown  element  in  the  moon — 
perhaps  that  which  makes  the  gigantic  luminous 
trails  that  radiate  in  all  directions  from  the  lunar 
crater  Tycho — whose  energies  are  absorbed  by 
and  carried  on  the  moon  rays. 

"At  any  rate,  whether  by  the  loss  of  the  vibra 
tions  of  the  red  or  by  the  addition  of  this  mysterious 
force,  the  light  of  the  moon  becomes  something 
entirely  different  from  mere  modified  sunlight — 
just  as  the  addition  or  subtraction  of  one  other 
chemical  in  a  compound  of  several  makes  the 
product  a  substance  with  entirely  different  energies 
and  potentialities. 

' '  Now  these  rays,  Larry,  are  given  perhaps  still 
another  mysterious  activity  by  the  globes  through 
which  Throckmartin  said  they  passed  in  the 
Chamber  of  the  Moon  Pool.  The  result  is  the 
necessary  factor  in  the  formation  of  the  Dweller. 
There  would  be  nothing  scientifically  improbable 
in  such  a  process.  Kubalski,  the  great  Russian 
physicist,  produced  crystalline  forms  exhibiting 
every  faculty  that  we  call  vital  by  subjecting 
certain  combinations  of  chemicals  to  the  action 
of  highly  concentrated  rays  of  various  colours. 
Something  in  light  and  nothing  else  produced 
their  pseudo-vitality.  We  do  not  begin  to  know 


A  Lost  Page  of  Earth          93 

how  to  harness  the  potentialities  of  that  magnetic 
vibration  of  the  ether  we  call  light." 

"Listen,  Doc,"  said  Larry  earnestly,  "I'll 
take  everything  you  say  about  this  lost  continent, 
the  people  who  used  to  live  on  it,  and  their  caverns, 
for  granted.  But  by  the  sword  of  Brian  Boru, 
you'll  never  get  me  to  fall  for  the  idea  that  a  bunch 
of  moonshine  can  handle  a  big  woman  such  as  you 
say  Throckmartin's  Thora  was,  nor  a  two-fisted 
man  such  as  you  say  Throckmartin  was,  nor 
Huldricksson's  wife — and  I'll  bet  she  was  one  of 
those  strapping  big  northern  women  too — you'll 
never  get  me  to  believe  that  any  bunch  of  con 
centrated  moonshine  could  handle  them  and  take 
them  waltzing  off  along  a  moonbeam  back  to 
wherever  it  goes.  No,  Doc,  not  on  your  life, 
even  Tennessee  moonshine  couldn't  do  that — nix!' 

"All  right  O'Keefe, "  I  answered,  now  very 
much  irritated  indeed.  "What's  your  theory?" 
And  I  could  not  resist  adding :  ' '  Fairies  ? ' ' 

"Professor,"  he  grinned,  "if  that  Thing's  a 
fairy  it's  Irish  and  when  it  sees  me  it'll  be  so  glad 
there'll  be  nothing  to  it.  'I  was  lost,  strayed,  or 
stolen,  Larry  avick,'  it'll  say,  'an'  I  was  so  home 
sick  for  the  old  sod  I  was  desp'rit,'  it'll  say,  an' 
'take  me  back  quick  before  I  do  any  more  har-rm !' 
it'll  tell  me — an'  that's  the  truth. 

"Now  don't  get  me  wrong.  I  believe  you 
all  saw  something  all  right.  But  what  I  think 
you  saw  was  some  kind  of  gas.  All  this  region  is 
volcanic  and  islands  and  things  are  constantly 


94  The  Moon  Pool 

poking  up  from  the  sea.  It's  probably  gas;  a 
volcanic  emanation ;  something  new  to  us  and  that 
drives  you  crazy — lots  of  kinds  of  gas  do  that. 
It  hit  the  Throckmartin  party  on  that  island  and 
they  probably  were  all  more  or  less  delirious  all 
the  time;  thought  they  saw  things;  talked  it  over 
and — collective  hallucination — just  like  the  Angels 
of  Mons  and  other  miracles  of  the  war.  Some 
body  sees  something  that  looks  like  something 
else.  He  points  it  out  to  the  man  next  him. 
'Do  you  see  it?'  asks  he.  'Sure  I  see  it,'  says 
the  other.  And  there  you  are — collective  halluci 
nation. 

"When  your  friends  got  it  bad  they  most  likely 
jumped  overboard  one  by  one.  Huldricksson  sails 
into  a  place  where  it  is  and  it  hits  his  wife.  She 
grabs  the  child  and  jumps  over.  Maybe  the 
moon  rays  make  it  luminous !  I've  seen  gas  on  the 
front  under  the  moon  that  looked  like  a  thousand 
whirling  dervish  devils.  Yes,  and  you  could  see 
the  devil's  faces  in  it.  And  if  it  got  into  your 
lungs  nothing  could  ever  make  you  think  you 
hadn't  seen  real  devils." 

For  a  time  I  was  silent. 

"Larry,"  I  said  at  last,  "whether  you  are 
right  or  I  am  right,  I  must  go  to  the  Nan-Matal. 
Will  you  go  with  me,  Larry? " 

"Goodwin,"  he  replied,  "I  surely  will.  I'm 
as  interested  as  you  are.  If  we  don't  run  across 
the  Dolphin  I'll  stick.  I'll  leave  word  at  Ponape, 
to  tell  them  where  I  am  should  they  come  along. 


A  Lost  Page  of  Earth          95 

If  they  report  me  dead  for  a  while  there's  nobody 
to  care.  So  that's  all  right.  Only  old  man,  be 
reasonable.  You've  thought  over  this  so  long, 
you're  going  bug,  honestly  you  are." 

And  again,  the  gladness  that  I  might  have 
Larry  O'Keefe  with  me,  was  so  great  that  I  forgot 
to  be  angry. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  MOON   POOL 

DA  COSTA,  who  had  come  aboard  unnoticed 
by  either  of  us,  now  tapped  me  on  the  arm . 

"Doctair  Goodwin,"  he  said,  "can  I  see  you  in 
my  cabin,  sair?" 

At  last,  then,  he  was  going  to  speak.  I  followed 
him. 

"Doctair,"  he  said,  when  we  had  entered, 
"this  is  a  veree  strange  thing  that  has  happened 
to  Olaf.  Veree  strange.  An'  the  natives  of 
Ponape,  they  have  been  very  much  excite' 
lately. 

"Of  what  they  fear  I  know  nothing,  nothing!" 
Again  that  quick,  furtive  crossing  of  himself. 
"But  this  I  have  to  tell  you.  There  came  to  me 
from  Ranaloa  last  month  a  man,  a  Russian,  a  doc- 
tair,  like  you.  His  name  it  was  Marakinoff. 
I  take  him  to  Ponape  an'  the  natives  there 
they  will  not  take  him  to  the  Nan-Matal  where 
he  wish  to  go — no !  So  I  take  him.  We  leave  in  a 
boat,  wit'  much  instrument  carefully  tied  up.  I 
leave  him  there  wit'  the  boat  an'  the  food.  He 
tell  me  to  tell  no  one  an'  pay  me  not  to.  But  you 

96 


The  Moon  Pool  97 

are  a  friend  an'  Olaf  he  depend  much  upon  you 
an'  so  I  tell  you,  sair." 

"You  know  nothing  more  than  this,  Da  Costa?" 
Tasked.  "Nothing  of  another  expedition?" 

"No,"  he  shook  his  head  vehemently.  "Noth 
ing  more." 

"Hear  the  name  Throckmartin  while  you  were 
there  ? "  I  persisted. 

"No, "  his  eyes  were  steady  as  he  answered  but 
the  pallor  had  crept  again  into  his  face. 

I  was  not  so  sure.  But  if  he  knew  more  than  he 
had  told  me  why  was  he  afraid  to  speak?  My 
anxiety  deepened  and  later  I  sought  relief  from  it 
by  repeating  the  conversation  to  O'Keefe. 

"A  Russian,  eh, "'he  said.  "Well,  they  can  be 
damned  nice,  or  damned — otherwise.  Considering 
what  you  did  for  me,  I  hope  I  can  look  him  over 
before  the  Dolphin  shows  up." 

Next  morning  we  raised  Ponape,  without  further 
incident,  and  before  noon  the  Suwarna  and  the 
Brunhilda  had  dropped  anchor  in  the  harbour. 
Upon  the  excitement  and  manifest  dread  of  the 
natives,  when  we  sought  among  them  for  carriers 
and  workmen  to  accompany  us,  I  will  not  dwell. 
It  is  enough  to  say  that  no  payment  we  offered 
could  induce  a  single  one  of  them  to  go  the  Nan- 
Matal.  Nor  would  they  say  why. 

Finally  it  was  agreed  that  the  Brunhilda  should 
be  left  in  charge  of  a  half-breed  Chinaman,  whom 
both  Da  Costa  and  Huldricksson  knew  and  trusted. 
We  piled  her  long-boat  up  with  my  instruments 


98  The  Moon  Pool 

and  food  and  camping  equipment.  The  Suwarna 
took  us  around  to  Metalanim  Harbour,  and  there, 
with  the  tops  of  ancient  sea  walls  deep  in  the 
blue  water  beneath  us,  and  the  ruins  looming 
up  out  of  the  mangroves,  a  scant  mile  from  us, 
left  us. 

Then  with  Huldricksson  manipulating  our  small 
sail,  and  Larry  at  the  rudder,  we  rounded  the 
titanic  wall  that  swept  down  into  the  depths,  and 
turned  at  last  into  the  canal  that  Throckmartin, 
on  his  map,  had  marked  as  that  which,  running 
between  frowning  Nan-Tauach  and  its  satellite 
islet,  Tau,  led  straight  to  the  gate  of  the  place  of 
ancient  mysteries. 

And  as  we  entered  that  channel  we  were  envel 
oped  by  a  silence;  a  silence  so  intense,  so — weighted 
that  it  seemed  to  have  substance;  an  alien  silence 
that  clung  and  stifled  and  still  stood  aloof  from  us 
— the  living.  It  was  a  stillness,  such  as  might 
follow  the  long  tramping  of  millions  into  the 
grave;  it  was — paradoxical  as  it  may  be — filled 
with  the  withdrawal  of  life. 

Standing  down  in  the  chambered  depths  of 
the  Great  Pyramid  I  had  known  something  of 
such  silence — but  never  such  intensity  as  this. 
Larry  felt  it  and  I  saw  him  look  at  me  askance. 
If  Olaf ,  sitting  in  the  bow,  felt  it,  too,  he  gave  no 
sign;  his  blue  eyes,  with  again  the  glint  of  ice 
within  them,  watched  the  channel  before  us. 

As  we  passed,  there  arose  upon  our  left  sheer 
walls  of  black  basalt  blocks,  cyclopean,  towering 


The  Moon  Pool  99 

fifty  feet  or  more,  broken  here  and  there  by  the 
sinking  of  their  deep  foundations. 

In  front  of  us  the  mangroves  widened  out  and 
filled  the  canal.  On  our  right  the  lesser  walls  of 
Tau,  sombre  blocks  smoothed  and  squared  and 
set  with  a  cold,  mathematical  nicety  that  filled 
me  with  vague  awe,  slipped  by.  Through  breaks 
I  caught  glimpses  of  dark  ruins  and  of  great  fallen 
stones  that  seemed  to  crouch  and  menace  us,  as 
we  passed.  Somewhere  there,  hidden,  were  the 
seven  globes  that  poured  the  moon  fire  down 
upon  the  Moon  Pool. 

Now  we  were  among  the  mangroves  and,  sail 
down,  the  three  of  us  pushed  and  pulled  the  boat 
through  their  tangled  roots  and  branches.  The 
noise  of  our  passing  split  the  silence  like  a  pro 
fanation,  and  from  the  ancient  bastions  came 
murmurs — forbidding,  strangely  sinister.  And 
now  we  were  through,  floating  on  a  little  open  space 
of  shadow-filled  water.  Before  us  lifted  the 
gateway  of  Nan-Tauach,  gigantic,  broken,  in 
credibly  old;  shattered  portals  through  which  had 
passed  men  and  women  of  earth's  dawn;  old  with 
a  weight  of  years  that  pressed  leadenly  upon  the 
eyes  that  looked  upon  it,  and  yet  was  in  some 
curious  indefinable  way — menacingly  defiant. 

Beyond  the  gate,  back  from  the  portals,  stretched 
a  flight  of  enormous  basalt  slabs,  a  giant's  stair 
way  indeed ;  and  from  each  side  of  it  marched  the 
high  walls  that  were  the  Dweller's  pathway.  None 
of  us  spoke  as  we  grounded  the  boat  and  dragged 


ioo  The  Moon  Pool 

it  up  on  a  half-submerged  pier.  And  when  we 
did  speak  it  was  in  whispers. 

"What  next?"  asked  Larry. 

"I  think  we  ought  to  take  a  look  around," 
I  replied  in  the  same  low  tones.  "We'll  climb 
the  wall  here  and  take  a  flash  about.  The  whole 
place  ought  to  be  plain  as  day  from  that  height." 

Huldricksson,  his  blue  eyes  alert,  nodded. 
With  the  greatest  difficulty  we  clambered  up 
the  broken  blocks. 

To  the  east  and  south  of  us,  set  like  children's 
blocks  in  the  midst  of  the  sapphire  sea,  lay  dozens 
of  islets,  none  of  them  covering  more  than  two 
square  miles  of  surface;  each  of  them  a  perfect 
square  or  oblong  within  its  protecting  walls. 

On  none  was  there  sign  of  life,  save  for  a  few 
great  birds  that  hovered  here  and  there,  and  gulls 
dipping  in  the  blue  waves  beyond. 

We  turned  our  gaze  down  upon  the  island  on 
which  we  stood.  It  was,  I  estimated,  about 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  square.  The  sea  wall 
enclosed  it.  It  was  really  an  enormous  basalt- 
sided  open  cube,  and  within  it  two  other  open 
cubes.  The  enclosure  between  the  first  and 
second  wall  was  stone  paved,  with  here  and  there 
a  broken  pillar  and  long  stone  benches.  The 
hibiscus,  the  aloe-tree,  and  a  number  of  small 
shrubs  had  found  place,  but  seemed  only  to  in 
tensify  its  stark  loneliness. 

"Wonder  where  the  Russian  can  be?"  asked 
Larry. 


The  Moon  Pool  101 

I  shook  my  head.  There  was  no  sign  of  life 
here.  Had  Marakinoff  gone — or  had  the  Dweller 
taken  him,  too?  Whatever  had  happened,  there 
was  no  trace  of  him  below  us  or  on  any  of  the 
islets  within  our  range  of  vision.  We  scram 
bled  down  the  side  of  the  gateway.  Olaf  looked 
at  me  wistfully. 

"We  start  the  search  now,  Olaf,"  I  said.  "And 
first,  O'Keefe,  let  us  see  whether  the  grey  stone  is 
really  here.  After  that  we  will  set  up  camp,  and 
while  I  unpack,  you  and  Olaf  search  the  island. 
It  won't  take  long." 

Larry  gave  a  look  at  his  service  automatic  and 
grinned.  ' '  Lead  on  Macduff, ' '  he  said.  We  made 
our  way  up  the  steps,  through  the  outer  enclosures 
and  into  the  central  square.  I  confess  to  a  fire 
of  scientific  curiosity  and  eagerness  tinged  with  a 
dread  that  O'Keefe's  analysis  might  be  true. 
Would  we  find  the  moving  slab  and,  if  so,  would 
it  be  as  Throckmartin  had  described?  If  so,  then 
even  Larry  would  have  to  admit  that  here  was 
something  that  theories  of  gases  and  luminous 
emanations  would  not  explain;  and  the  first  test 
of  the  whole  amazing  story  would  be  passed.  But 
if  not 

And  there  before  us,  the  faintest  tinge  of  grey 
setting  it  apart  from  its  neighbouring  blocks  of 
basalt,  was  the  moon  door! 

There  was  no  mistaking  it.  This  was,  in  very 
deed,  the  portal  through  which  Throckmartin 
had  seen  pass  that  gloriously  dreadful  apparition 


102  The  Moon  Pool 

he  called  the  Dweller.  At  its  base,  was  the  curious, 
seemingly  polished  cup-like  depression  within 
which,  my  lost  friend  had  told  me,  the  opening 
door  swung. 

What  was  that  portal — more  enigmatic  than 
was  ever  sphinx?  And  what  lay  beyond  it? 
What  did  that  smooth  stone,  whose  wan  deadness 
whispered  of  ages  old  corridors  of  time  opening 
out  into  alien,  unimaginable  vistas,  hide?  It  had 
cost  the  world  of  science  Throckmartin's  great 
brain — as  it  had  cost  Throckmartin  those  he 
loved.  It  had  drawn  me  to  it  in  search  of  Throck 
martin — and  its  shadow  had  fallen  upon  the  soul 
of  Olaf  the  Norseman;  and  upon  what  thousands 
upon  thousands  more  I  wondered,  since  the 
brains  that  had  conceived  it  had  vanished  with 
their  secret  knowledge? 

What  lay  beyond  it? 

I  stretched  out  a  shaking  hand  and  touched 
the  surface  of  the  slab.  A  faint  thrill  passed 
through  my  hand  and  arm,  oddly  unfamiliar  and 
as  oddly  unpleasant ;  as  of  electric  contact  holding 
the  very  essence  of  cold.  O'Keefe,  watching, 
imitated  my  action.  As  his  fingers  rested  on  the 
stone  his  face  filled  with  astonishment. 

"It's  the  door?"  he  asked.  I  nodded.  There 
was  a  low  whistle  from  him  and  he  pointed  up 
toward  the  top  of  the  grey  stone.  I  followed  the 
gesture  and  saw,  above  the  moon  door  and  on 
each  side  of  it,  two  gently  curving  bosses  of  rock, 
perhaps  a  foot  in  diameter. 


The  Moon  Pool  103 

"The  moon  door's  keys,"  I  said. 

"It  begins  to  look  so,"  answered  Larry.  "If 
we  can  find  them, "  he  added. 

"There's  nothing  we  can  do  till  moonrise, "  I 
replied.  "And  we've  none  too  much  time  to 
prepare  as  it  is.  Come!" 

A  little  later  we  were  beside  our  boat.  We 
lightered  it,  set  up  the  tent,  and  as  it  was  now  but 
a  short  hour  to  sundown  I  bade  them  leave  me 
and  make  their  search.  They  went  off  together, 
and  I  busied  myself  with  opening  some  of  the 
paraphernalia  I  had  brought  with  me. 

First  of  all  I  took  out  the  two  Becquerel  ray- 
condensers  that  I  had  bought  in  Sydney.  Their 
lenses  would  collect  and  intensify  to  the  fullest 
extent  any  light  directed  upon  them.  I  had 
found  them  most  useful  in  making  spectroscopic 
analysis  of  luminous  vapours,  and  I  knew  that  at 
Yerkes  Observatory  splendid  results  had  been 
obtained  from  them  in  collecting  the  diffused 
radiance  of  the  nebulae  for  the  same  purpose. 

If  my  theory  of  the  grey  slab's  mechanism  were 
correct,  it  was  practically  certain  that  with  the 
satellite  only  a  few  nights  past  the  full  we  could 
concentrate  enough  light  on  the  bosses  to  open 
the  rock.  And  as  the  ray  streams  through  the 
seven  globes  described  by  Throckmartin  would 
be  too  weak  to  energize  the  Pool,  we  could  enter 
the  chamber  free  from  any  fear  of  encountering 
its  tenant,  make  our  preliminary  observations 
and  go  forth  before  the  moon  had  dropped  so 


104  The  Moon  Pool 

far  that  the  concentration  in  the  condensers  would 
fall  below  that  necessary  to  keep  the  portal  from 
closing. 

I  took  out  also  a  small  spectroscope,  and  a  few 
other  instruments  for  the  analysis  of  certain  light 
manifestations  and  the  testing  of  metal  and  liquid. 
Finally,  I  put  aside  my  emergency  medical  kit. 

I  had  hardly  finished  examining  and  adjusting 
these  before  O'Keefe  and  Huldricksson  returned. 
They  reported  signs  of  a  camp  at  least  ten  days  old 
beside  the  northern  wall  of  the  outer  court,  but 
beyond  that  no  evidence  of  others  beyond  ourselves 
on  Nan-Tauach. 

We  prepared  supper,  ate  and  talked  a  little, 
but  for  the  most  part  were  silent.  Even  Larry's 
high  spirits  were  not  in  evidence;  half  a  dozen 
times  I  saw  him  take  out  his  automatic  and  look 
it  over.  He  was  more  thoughtful  than  I  had 
ever  seen  him.  Once  he  went  into  the  tent,  rum 
maged  about  a  bit  and  brought  out  another 
revolver  which,  he  said,  he  had  got  from  Da  Costa, 
and  a  half-dozen  clips  of  cartridges.  He  passed 
the  gun  over  to  Olaf . 

At  last  a  glow  in  the  south-east  heralded  the 
rising  moon.  I  picked  up  my  instruments  and 
the  medical  kit;  Larry  and  Olaf  shouldered  each  a 
short  ladder  that  was  part  of  my  equipment,  and, 
with  our  electric  flashes  pointing  the  way,  walked 
up  the  great  stairs,  through  the  enclosures,  and 
straight  to  the  grey  stone. 

By  this  time  the  moon  had  risen  and  its  clipped 


The  Moon  Pool  105 

light  shone  full  upon  the  slab.  I  saw  faint  gleams 
pass  over  it  as  of  fleeting  phosphorescence — but  so 
faint  were  they  that  I  could  not  be  sure  of  the 
truth  of  my  observation. 

We  set  the  ladders  in  place.  Olaf  I  assigned  to 
stand  before  the  door  and  watch  for  the  first  signs 
of  its  opening — if  open  it  should.  The  Becquerels 
were  set  within  three-inch  tripods,  whose  feet  I 
had  equipped  with  vacuum  rings  to  enable  them 
to  hold  fast  to  the  rock. 

I  scaled  one  ladder  and  fastened  a  condenser 
over  the  boss;  descended;  sent  Larry  up  to  watch 
it,  and,  ascending  the  second  ladder,  rapidly  fixed 
the  other  in  its  place.  Then,  with  O'Keefe  watch 
ful  on  his  perch,  I  on  mine,  and  Olaf 's  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  moon  door,  we  began  our  vigil.  Suddenly 
there  was  an  exclamation  from  Larry. 

"Seven  little  lights  are  beginning  to  glow  on 
this  stone!"  he  cried. 

But  I  had  already  seen  those  beneath  my  lens 
begin  to  gleam  out  with  a  silvery  lustre.  Swiftly 
the  rays  within  the  condenser  began  to  thicken 
and  increase,  and  as  they  did  so  the  seven  small 
circles  waxed  like  stars  growing  out  of  the  dusk, 
and  with  a  queer — curdled  is  the  best  word  I  can 
find  to  define  it — radiance  entirely  strange  to  me. 

Beneath  me  I  heard  a  faint,  sighing  murmur 
and  then  the  voice  of  Huldricksson : 

' '  It  opens — the  stone  turns ' ' 

I  began  to  climb  down  the  ladder.  Again 
came  Olaf's  voice: 


io6  The  Moon  Pool 

"The  stone — it  is  open — "  And  then  a  shriek, 
a  wail  of  blended  anguish  and  pity,  of  rage  and 
despair — and  the  sound  of  swift  footsteps  racing 
through  the  wall  beneath  me ! 

I  dropped  to  the  ground.  The  moon  door 
was  wide  open,  and  through  it  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  corridor  filled  with  a  faint,  pearly  vaporous 
light  like  earliest  misty  dawn.  But  of  Olaf  I 
could  see — nothing !  And  even  as  I  stood,  gaping, 
from  behind  me  came  the  sharp  crack  of  a  rifle; 
the  glass  of  the  condenser  at  Larry's  side  flew 
into  fragments;  he  dropped  swiftly  to  the  ground, 
the  automatic  in  his  hand  flashed  once,  twice, 
into  the  darkness. 

And  the  moon  door  began  to  pivot  slowly, 
slowly  back  into  its  place! 

I  rushed  toward  the  turning  stone  with  the  wild 
idea  of  holding  it  open.  As  I  thrust  my  hands 
against  it  there  came  at  my  back  a  snarl  and  an 
oath  and  Larry  staggered  under  the  impact  of  a 
body  that  had  flung  itself  straight  at  his  throat. 
He  reeled  at  the  lip  of  the  shallow  cup  at  the  base 
of  the  slab,  slipped  upon  its  polished  curve,  fell  and 
rolled  with  that  which  had  attacked  him,  kicking 
and  writhing,  straight  through  the  narrowing 
portal  into  the  passage! 

Forgetting  all  else,  I  sprang  to  his  aid.  As  I 
leaped  I  felt  the  closing  edge  of  the  moon  door 
graze  my  side.  Then,  as  Larry  raised  a  fist, 
brought  it  down  upon  the  temple  of  the  man  who 
had  grappled  with  him  and  rose  from  the  twitching 


The  Moon  Pool  107 

body  unsteadily  to  his  feet,  I  heard  shuddering 
past  me  a  mournful  whisper;  spun  about  as  though 
some  giant's  hand  had  whirled  me 

The  end  of  the  corridor  no  longer  opened  out 
into  the  moonlit  square  of  ruined  Nan-Tauach. 
It  was  barred  by  a  solid  mass  of  glimmering  stone. 
The  moon  door  had  closed! 

O'Keefe  took  a  stumbling  step  toward  the  barrier 
behind  us.  There  was  no  mark  of  juncture  with 
the  shining  walls;  the  slab  fitted  into  the  sides  as 
closely  as  a  mosaic. 

1 '  It's  shut  all  right, ' '  said  Larry.  ' '  But  if  there's 
a  way  in,  there's  a  way  out.  Anyway,  Doc,  we're 
right  in  the  pew  we've  been  heading  for — so  why 
worry?"  He  grinned  at  me  cheerfully.  The 
man  on  the  floor  groaned,  and  he  dropped  to  his 
knees  beside  him. 

"Marakinoff!"  he  cried. 

At  my  exclamation  he  moved  aside,  turning 
the  face  so  I  could  see  it.  It  was  clearly  Russian, 
and  just  as  clearly  its  possessor  was  one  of  unusual 
force  and  intellect. 

The  strong,  massive  brow  with  orbital  ridge 
unusually  developed,  the  dominant,  high-bridged 
nose,  the  straight  lips  with  their  more  than  sug 
gestion  of  latent  cruelty,  and  the  strong  lines  of 
the  jaw  beneath  a  black,  pointed  beard  all  gave 
evidence  that  here  was  a  personality  beyond  the 
ordinary. 

"Couldn't  be  anybody  else,"  said  Larry, 
breaking  in  on  my  thoughts.  "He  must  have 


io8  The  Moon  Pool 

been  watching  us  over  there  from  Chau-ta-leur's 
vault  all  the  time." 

Swiftly  he  ran  practised  hands  over  his  body; 
then  stood  erect,  holding  out  to  me  two  wicked- 
looking  magazine  pistols  and  a  knife.  "He  got 
one  of  my  bullets  through  his  right  forearm,  too, " 
he  said.  "Just  a  flesh  wound,  but  it  made  him 
drop  his  rifle.  Some  arsenal,  our  little  Russian 
scientist,  what?" 

I  opened  my  medical  kit.  The  wound  was  a 
slight  one,  and  Larry  stood  looking  on  as  I  band 
aged  it. 

"Got  another  one  of  those  condensers?"  he 
asked,  suddenly.  "And  do  you  suppose  Olaf  will 
know  enough  to  use  it?" 

"Larry,"  I  answered,  "Olaf's  not  outside! 
He's  in  here  somewhere!" 

His  jaw  dropped. 

"The  hell  you  say!"  he  whispered. 

"Didn't  you  hear  him  shriek  when  the  stone 
opened?"  I  asked. 

"I  heard  him  yell,  yes,"  he  said.  "But  I 
didn't  know  what  was  the  matter.  And  then  this 
wild  cat  jumped  me — "  He  paused  and  his  eyes 
widened.  "Which  way  did  he  go?"  he  asked 
swiftly.  I  pointed  down  the  faintly  glowing 
passage. 

"There's  only  one  way,"  I  said. 

"Watch  that  bird  close,"  hissed  O'Keefe, 
pointing  to  Marakinoff — and  pistol  in  hand 
stretched  his  long  legs  and  raced  away.  I  looked 


The  Moon  Pool  109 

down  at  the  Russian.  His  eyes  were  open,  and  he 
reached  out  a  hand  to  me.  I  lifted  him  to  his  feet. 

"I  have  heard,"  he  said.  "We  follow,  quick. 
If  you  will  take  my  arm,  please,  I  am  shaken  yet, 
yes — "  I  gripped  his  shoulder  without  a  word, 
and  the  two  of  us  set  off  down  the  corridor  after 
O'Keefe.  Marakinoff  was  gasping,  and  his  weight 
pressed  upon  me  heavily,  but  he  moved  with  all 
the  will  and  strength  that  were  in  him. 

As  we^  ran  I  took  hasty  note  of  the  tunnel. 
Its  sides  were  smooth  and  polished,  and  the  light 
seemed  to  come  not  from  their  surfaces,  but  from 
far  within  them — giving  to  the  walls  an  illusive 
aspect  of  distance  and  depth;  rendering  them 
in  a  peculiarly  weird  way — spacious.  The  passage 
turned,  twisted,  ran  down,  turned  again.  It  came 
to  me  that  the  light  that  illumined  the  tunnel  was 
given  out  by  tiny  points  deep  within  the  stone, 
sprang  from  the  points  ripplingly  and  spread  upon 
their  polished  faces. 

There  was  a  cry  from  Larry  far  ahead. 

"Olaf!" 

I  gripped  Marakinoff's  arm  closer  and  we 
sped  on.  Now  we  were  coming  fast  to  the  end 
of  the  passage.  Before  us  was  a  high  arch,  and 
through  it  I  glimpsed  a  dim,  shifting  luminosity 
as  of  mist  filled  with  rainbows.  We  reached  the 
portal  and  I  looked  into  a  chamber  that  might 
have  been  transported  from  that  enchanted  palace 
of  the  Jinn  King  that  rises  beyond  the  magic 
mountains  of  Kaf. 


no  The  Moon  Pool 

Before  me  stood  O'Keefe,  and  a  dozen  feet  in 
front  of  him,  Huldricksson,  with  something  clasped 
tightly  in  his  arms.  The  Norseman's  feet  were  at 
the  verge  of  a  shining,  silvery  lip  of  stone  within 
whose  oval  lay  a  blue  pool.  And  down  upon  this 
pool  staring  upward  like  a  gigantic  eye,  fell  seven 
pillars  of  phantom  light — one  of  them  amethyst, 
one  of  rose,  another  of  white,  a  fourth  of  blue, 
and  three  of  emerald,  of  silver,  and  of  amber. 
They  fell  each  upon  the  azure  surface,  and  I  knew 
that  these  were  the  seven  streams  of  radiance, 
within  which  the  Dweller  took  shape — now  but 
pale  ghosts  of  their  brilliancy  when  the  full  energy 
of  the  moon  stream  raced  through  them. 

Huldricksson  bent  and  placed  on  the  shining 
silver  lip  of  the  Pool  that  which  he  held — and  I 
saw  that  it  was  the  body  of  a  child!  He  set  it 
there  so  gently,  bent  over  the  side  and  thrust  a 
hand  down  into  the  water.  And  as  he  did  so  he 
moaned  and  lurched  against  the  little  body  that 
lay  before  him.  Instantly  the  form  moved — and 
slipped  over  the  verge  into  the  blue.  Huldricks 
son  threw  his  body  over  the  stone,  hands  clutching, 
arms  thrust  deep  down — and  from  his  lips  issued 
a  long-drawn,  heart-shrivelling  wail  of  pain  and  of 
anguish  that  held  in  it  nothing  human ! 

Close  on  its  wake  came  a  cry  from  Marakinoff. 

"Catch  him!"  shouted  the  Russian.  "Drag  him 
back!  Quick!" 

He  leaped  forward,  but  before  he  could  half 
clear  the  distance,  O'Keefe  had  leaped  too,  had 


The  Moon  Pool  in 

caught  the  Norseman  by  the  shoulders  and  toppled 
him  backward,  where  he  lay  whimpering  and 
sobbing.  And  as  I  rushed  behind  Marakinoff  I 
saw  Larry  lean  over  the  lip  of  the  Pool  and  cover 
his  eyes  with  a  shaking  hand;  saw  the  Russian 
peer  into  it  with  real  pity  in  his  cold  eyes. 

Then  I  stared  down  myself  into  the  Moon 
Pool,  and  there,  sinking,  was  a  little  maid  whose 
dead  face  and  fixed,  terror-filled  eyes  looked 
straight  into  mine ;  and  ever  sinking  slowly,  slowly 
— vanished!  And  I  knew  that  this  was  Olaf's 
Freda,  his  beloved  yndlingl 

But  where  was  the  mother,  and  where  had  Olaf 
found  his  babe? 

The  Russian  was  first  to  speak. 

"You  have  nitroglycerin  there,  yes?"  he  asked, 
pointing  toward  my  medical  kit  that  I  had  gripped 
unconsciously  and  carried  with  me  during  the 
mad  rush  down  the  passage.  I  nodded  and  drew 
it  out. 

"Hypodermic,"  he  ordered  next,  curtly;  took 
the  syringe,  filled  it  accurately  with  its  one  one- 
hundredth  of  a  grain  dosage,  and  leaned  over 
Huldricksson.  He  rolled  up  the  sailor's  sleeves 
half-way  to  the  shoulder.  The  arms  were  white 
with  somewhat  of  that  weird  semitranslucence 
that  I  had  seen  on  Throckmar tin's  breast  where  a 
tendril  of  the  Dweller  had  touched  him;  and  his 
hands  were  of  the  same  whiteness — like  a  baroque 
pearl.  Above  the  line  of  white,  Marakinoff 
thrust  the  needle. 


ii2  The  Moon  Pool 

"He  will  need  all  his  heart  can  do, ' '  he  said  to  me. 

Then  he  reached  down  into  a  belt  about  his 
waist  and  drew  from  it  a  small,  flat  flask  of  what 
seemed  to  be  lead.  He  opened  it  and  let  a  few 
drops  of  its  contents  fall  on  each  arm  of  the 
Norwegian.  The  liquid  sparkled  and  instantly 
began  to  spread  over  the  skin  much  as  oil  or  gaso 
line  dropped  on  water  does — only  far  more  rapidly. 
And  as  it  spread  it  drew  a  sparkling  film  over  the 
marbled  flesh  and  little  wisps  of  vapour  rose  from 
it.  The  Norseman's  mighty  chest  heaved  with 
agony.  His  hands  clenched.  The  Russian  gave 
a  grunt  of  satisfaction  at  this,  dropped  a  little  more 
of  the  liquid,  and  then,  watching  closely,  grunted 
again  and  leaned  back.  Huldricksson's  laboured 
breathing  ceased,  his  head  dropped  upon  Larry's 
knee,  and  from  his  arms  and  hands  the  whiteness 
swiftly  withdrew. 

Marakinoff  arose  and  contemplated  us — almost 
benevolently. 

"He  will  all  right  be  in  five  minutes,"  he  said. 
"I  know.  I  do  it  to  pay  for  that  shot  of  mine,  and 
also  because  we  will  need  him.  Yes."  He  turned 
to  Larry.  "You  have  a  poonch  like  a  mule 
kick,  my  young  friend,"  he  said.  "Some  time 
you  pay  me  for  that,  too,  eh?"  He  smiled;  and 
the  quality  of  the  grimace  was  not  exactly  re 
assuring.  Larry  looked  him  over  quizzically. 

"You're  Marakinoff,  of  course,"  he  said.  The 
Russian  nodded,  betraying  no  surprise  at  the 
recognition. 


The  Moon  Pool  1 1 3 

"And  you?"  he  asked. 

"Lieutenant  O'Keefe  of  the  Royal  Flying 
Corps,"  replied  Larry,  saluting.  "And  this  gen 
tleman  is  Dr.  Walter  T.  Goodwin." 

Marakinoff' s  face  brightened. 

"The  American  botanist?"  he  queried.  I 
nodded. 

"Ah,"  cried  Marakinoff  eagerly,  "but  this  is 
fortunate.  Long  I  have  desired  to  meet  you. 
Your  work,  for  an  American,  is  most  excellent; 
surprising.  But  you  are  wrong  in  your  theory  of 
the  development  of  the  Angiospermae  from  Cyca- 
deoidea  dacotensis.  Da — all  wrong " 

I  was  interrupting  him  with  considerable  heat, 
for  my  conclusions  from  the  fossil  Cycadeoidea  I 
knew  to  be  my  greatest  triumph,  when  Larry  broke 
in  upon  me  rudely. 

"Say,"  he  sputtered,  "am  I  crazy  or  are  you? 
What  in  damnation  kind  of  a  place  and  time  is 
this  to  start  an  argument  like  that? 

"Angiospermae,  is  it?"  exclaimed  Larry.  "Hell!" 

Marakinoff  again  regarded  him  with  that 
irritating  air  of  benevolence. 

"You  have  not  the  scientific  mind,  young 
friend,"  he  said.  "The  poonch,  yes!  But  so 
has  the  mule.  You  must  learn  that  only  the  fact 
is  important — not  you,  not  me,  not  this" — he 
pointed  to  Huldricksson — "or  its  sorrows.  Only 
the  fact,  whatever  it  is,  is  real,  yes.  But" — he 
turned  to  me — "another  time " 

Huldricksson  interrupted  him.     The  big  sea- 


ii4  The  Moon  Pool 

man  had  risen  stiffly  to  his  feet  and  stood  with 
Larry's  arm  supporting  him.  He  stretched  out 
his  hands  to  me. 

"I  saw  her,"  he  whispered.  "I  saw  mine 
Freda  when  the  stone  swung.  She  lay  there — 
just  at  my  feet.  I  picked  her  up  and  I  saw  that 
mine  Freda  was  dead.  But  I  hoped — and  I 
thought  maybe  mine  Helma  was  somewhere  here, 
too.  So  I  ran  with  mine  yndling — here — "  His 
voice  broke.  "I  thought  maybe  she  was  not 
dead,"  he  went  on.  "And  I  saw  that" — he 
pointed  to  the  Moon  Pool — "and  I  thought  I 
would  bathe  her  face  and  she  might  live  again. 
And  when  I  dipped  my  hands  within — the  life 
left  them,  and  cold,  deadly  cold,  ran  up  through 
them  into  my  heart.  And  mine  Freda — she  fell 
'  he  covered  his  eyes,  and  dropping  his  head 
on  O'Keefe's  shoulder,  stood,  racked  by  sobs  that 
seemed  to  tear  at  his  very  soul. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   FLAME-TIPPED   SHADOWS 

MARAKINOFF  nodded  his  head  solemnly  as 
Olaf  finished. 

"Da!"  he  said.  "That  which  comes  from  here 
took  them  both — the  woman  and  the  child.  Da! 
They  came  clasped  within  it  and  the  stone  shut 
upon  them.  But  why  it  left  the  child  behind  I  do 
not  understand." 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  I  cried  in  amaze 
ment. 

"Because  I  saw  it,"  answered  Marakinoff 
simply.  "Not  only  did  I  see  it,  but  hardly  had  I 
time  to  make  escape  through  the  entrance  before 
it  passed  whirling  and  murmuring  and  its  bell 
sounds  all  joyous.  Da!  It  was  what  you  call  the 
squeak  close,  that." 

"Wait  a  moment,"  I  said — stilling  Larry  with 
a  gesture.  "Do  I  'understand  you  to  say  that  you 
were  within  this  place?" 

Marakinoff  actually  beamed  upon  me. 

"Da,  Dr.  Goodwin,"  he  said,  "I  went  in  when 
that  which  conies  from  it  went  out!" 

I  gaped  at  him,  stricken  dumb;  into  Larry's 
»s 


u6  The  Moon  Pool 

bellicose  attitude  crept  a  suggestion  of  grudging 
respect;  Olaf,  trembling,  watched  silently. 

"Dr.  Goodwin  and  my  impetuous  young  friend, 
you,"  went  on  Marakinoff  after  a  moment's 
silence — and  I  wondered  vaguely  why  he  did  not 
include  Huldricksson  in  his  address — "it  is  time 
that  we  have  an  understanding.  I  have  a  proposal 
to  make  to  you  also.  It  is  this;  we  are  what  you 
call  a  bad  boat,  and  all  of  us  are  in  it.  Da!  We 
need  all  hands,  is  it  not  so?  Let  us  put  together 
our  knowledge  and  our  brains  and  resources — and 
even  a  poonch  of  a  mule  is  a  resource,"  he  looked 
wickedly  at  O'Keefe,  "and  pull  our  boat  into  quiet 
waters  again.  After  that " 

"All  very  well,  Marakinoff,"  interjected  Larry, 
"but  I  don't  feel  very  safe  in  any  boat  with 
somebody  capable  of  shooting  me  through  the 
back." 

Marakinoff  waved  a  deprecatory  hand. 

"It  was  natural  that,"  he  said,  "logical,  Dal 
Here  is  a  very  great  secret,  perhaps  many  secrets 
to  my  country  invaluable — "  He  paused,  shaken 
'by  some  overpowering  emotion;  the  veins  in  his 
forehead  grew  congested,  the  cold  eyes  blazed  and 
the  guttural  voice  harshened. 

"I  do  not  apologize  and  I  do  not  explain," 
rasped  Marakinoff.  "But  I  will  tell  you,  Dal 
Here  is  my  country  sweating  blood  in  an  experi 
ment  to  liberate  the  world.  And  here  are  the 
other  nations  ringing  us  like  wolves  and  waiting  to 
spring  at  our  throats  at  the  least  sign  of  weakness. 


The  Flame-Tipped  Shadows    117 

And  here  are  you,  Lieutenant  O'Keefe  of  the  Eng 
lish  wolves,  and  you  Dr.  Goodwin  of  the  Yankee 
pack — and  here  in  this  place  may  be  that  which 
will  enable  my  country  to  win  its  war  for  the  work 
er.  What  are  the  lives  of  you  two  and  this  sailor 
to  that  ?  Less  than  the  flies  I  crush  with  my  hand, 
less  than  midges  in  the  sunbeam!" 

He  suddenly  gripped  himself. 

"But  that  is  not  now  the  important  thing,"  he 
resumed,  almost  coldly.  "Not  that  nor  my  shoot 
ing.  Let  us  squarely  the  situation  face.  My 
proposal  is  so :  that  we  join  interests,  and  what  you 
call  see  it  through  together ;  find  our  way  through 
this  place  and  those  secrets  learn  of  which  I  have 
spoken,  if  we  can.  And  when  that  is  done  we  will 
go  our  ways,  to  his  own  land  each,  to  make  use  of 
them  for  our  lands  as  each  of  us  may.  On  my  part, 
I  offer  my  knowledge — and  it  is  very  valuable  Dr. 
Goodwin — and  my  training.  You  and  Lieutenant 
O'Keefe  do  the  same,  and  this  man  Olaf,  what  he 
can  of  his  strength,  for  I  do  not  think  his  usefulness 
lies  in  his  brains,  no," 

"In  effect,  Goodwin,"  broke  in  Larry  as  I  hesi 
tated,  "the  professor's  proposition  is  this:  he 
wants  to  know  what's  going  on  here  but  he  begins 
to  realize  it's  no  one  man's  job  and  besides  we  have 
the  drop  on  him.  We're  three  to  his  one,  and  we 
have  all  his  hardware  and  cutlery.  But  also  we 
can  do  better  with  him  than  without  him — just  as 
he  can  do  better  with  us  than  without  us.  It's  an 
even  break — for  a  while.  But  once  he  gets  that 


n8  The  Moon  Pool 

information  he's  looking  for,  then  look  out.  You 
and  Olaf  and  I  are  the  wolves  and  the  flies  and  the 
midges  again — and  the  strafing  will  be  about  due. 
Nevertheless,  with  three  to  one  against  him,  if  he 
can  get  away  with  it  he  deserves  to.  I'm  for  taking 
him  up,  if  you  are." 

There  was  almost  a  twinkle  in  MarakinofFs 
eyes. 

"It  is  not  just  as  I  would  have  put  it,  perhaps," 
he  said,  "but  in  its  skeleton  he  has  right.  Nor 
will  I  turn  my  hand  against  you  while  we  are  still 
in  danger  here.  I  pledge  you  my  honor  on  this." 

Larry  laughed. 

"All  right,  Professor,"  he  grinned.  "I  believe 
you  mean  every  word  you  say.  Nevertheless,  I'll 
just  keep  the  guns." 

Marakinoff  bowed,  imperturbably. 

"And  now,"  he  said,  "I  will  tell  you  what  I 
know.  I  found  the  secret  of  the  door  mechanism 
even  as  you  did,  Dr.  Goodwin.  But  by  careless 
ness,  my  condensers  were  broken.  I  was  forced  to 
wait  while  I  sent  for  others — and  the  waiting 
might  be  for  months.  I  took  certain  precautions, 
and  on  the  first  night  of  this  full  moon  I  hid  myself 
within  the  vault  of  Chau-ta-leur." 

An  involuntary  thrill  of  admiration  for  the  man 
went  through  me  at  the  manifest  heroism  of  this 
leap  in  the  dark.  I  could  see  it  reflected  in  Larry's 
face. 

"I  hid  in  the  vault,"  continued  Marakinoff, 
"and  I  saw  that  which  comes  from  here  come  out. 


The  Flame-Tipped  Shadows    119 

I  waited — long  hours.  At  last,  when  the  moon  was 
low,  it  returned — ecstatically — with  a  man,  a  na 
tive,  in  embrace  enfolded.  It  passed  through  the 
door,  and  soon  then  the  moon  became  low  and  the 
door  closed. 

"The  next  night  more  confidence  was  mine, 
yes.  And  after  that  which  comes  had  gone,  I 
looked  through  its  open  door.  I  said,  'It  will  not 
return  for  three  hours.  While  it  is  away,  why  shall 
I  not  into  its  home  go  through  the  door  it  has  left 
open?  So  I  went — even  to  here.  I  looked  at  the 
pillars  of  light  and  I  tested  the  liquid  of  the  Pool 
on  which  they  fell.  That  liquid,  Dr.  Goodwin,  is 
not  water,  and  it  is  not  any  fluid  known  on  earth. " 
He  handed  me  a  small  vial,  its  neck  held  in  a  long 
thong. 

"Take  this,"  he  said,  "and  see." 

Wonderingly,  I  took  the  bottle ;  dipped  it  down 
into  the  Pool.  The  liquid  was  extraordinarily 
light;  seemed,  in  fact,  to  give  the  vial  buoyancy. 
I  held  it  to  the  light.  It  was  striated,  streaked,  as 
though  little  living,  pulsing  veins  ran  through  it. 
And  its  blueness  even  in  the  vial,  held  an  intensit}' 
of  luminousness. 

"Radioactive,"  said  Marakinoff.  "Some  liquid 
that  is  intensely  radioactive;  but  what  it  is 
I  know  not  at  all.  Upon  the  living  skin  it  acts  like 
radium  raised  to  the  nth  power  and  with  an  ele 
ment  most  mysterious  added.  The  solution  with 
which  I  treated  him, "  he  pointed  to  Huldricksson, 
"I  had  prepared  before  I  came  here,  from  certain 


1 20  The  Moon  Pool 

information  I  had.  It  is  largely  salts  of  radium 
and  its  base  is  Loeb's  formula  for  the  neutraliza 
tion  of  radium  and  X-ray  burns.  Taking  this  man 
at  once,  before  the  degeneration  had  become  really 
active,  I  could  negative  it.  But  after  two  hours 
I  could  have  done  nothing." 

He  paused  a  moment. 

"Next  I  studied  the  nature  of  these  luminous 
walls.  I  concluded  that  whoever  had  made  them, 
knew  the  secret  of  the  Almighty's  manufacture 
of  light  from  the  ether  itself !  Colossal!  Dal  But 
the  substance  of  these  blocks  confines  an  atomic — 
how  would  you  say — atomic  manipulation,  a  con 
scious  arrangement  of  electrons,  light-emitting 
and  perhaps  indefinitely  so.  These  blocks  are 
lamps  in  which  oil  and  wick  are — electrons  draw 
ing  light  waves  from  ether  itself!  A  Prometheus, 
indeed,  this  discoverer!  I  looked  at  my  watch 
and  that  little  guardian  warned  me  that  it  was 
time  to  go.  I  went.  That  which  comes  forth 
returned — this  time  empty-handed. 

"And  the  next  night  I  did  the  same  thing.  En 
grossed  in  research,  I  let  the  moments  go  by  to  the 
danger  point,  and  scarcely  was  I  replaced  within 
the  vault  when  the  shining  thing  raced  over  the 
walls,  and  in  its  grip  the  woman  and  child 

"Then  you  came — and  that  is  all.  And  now — 
what  is  it  you  know?" 

Very  briefly  I  went  over  my  story.  His  eyes 
gleamed  now  and  then,  but  he  did  not  interrupt 
me. 


The  Flame-Tipped  Shadows    121 

"A  great  secret!  A  colossal  secret!"  he  muttered, 
when  I  had  ended.  "We  cannot  leave  it  hidden." 

"The  first  thing  to  do  is  to  try  the  door,"  said 
Larry,  matter  of  fact. 

"There  is  no  use,  my  young  friend,"  assured 
Marakinoff  mildly. 

"Nevertheless  we'll  try,"  said  Larry.  We  re 
traced  our  way  through  the  winding  tunnel  to  the 
end,  but  soon  even  O'Keefe  saw  that  any  idea  of 
moving  the  slab  from  within  was  hopeless.  We  re 
turned  to  the  Chamber  of  the  Pool.  The  pillars  of 
light  were  fainter,  and  we  knew  that  the  moon  was 
sinking.  On  the  world  outside  before  long  dawn 
would  be  breaking.  I  began  to  feel  thirst — and 
the  blue  semblance  of  water  within  the  silvery  rim 
seemed  to  glint  mockingly  as  my  eyes  rested  on  it. 

"Da!"  it  was  Marakinoff,  reading  my  thoughts 
uncannily.  "Da!  We  will  be  thirsty.  And  it 
will  be  very  bad  for  him  of  us  who  loses  control 
and  drinks  of  that,  my  friend.  Da!" 

Larry  threw  back  his  shoulders  as  though  shak 
ing  a  burden  from  them. 

"This  place  would  give  an  angel  of  joy  the 
willies,"  he  said.  "I  suggest  that  we  look  around 
and  find  something  that  will  take  us  somewhere. 
You  can  bet  the  people  that  built  it  had  more  ways 
of  getting  in  than  that  once-a-month  family  en 
trance.  Doc,  you  and  Olaf  take  the  left  wall ;  the 
professor  and  I  will  take  the  right." 

He  loosened  one  of  his  automatics  with  a  sugges 
tive  movement. 


122  The  Moon  Pool 

"After  you,  Professor,"  he  bowed,  politely,  to 
the  Russian.  We  parted  and  set  forth. 

The  chamber  widened  out  from  the  portal  in 
what  seemed  to  be  the  arc  of  an  immense  circle. 
The  shining  walls  held  a  perceptible  curve,  and 
from  this  curvature  I  estimated  that  the  roof  was 
fully  three  hundred  feet  above  us. 

The  floor  was  of  smooth,  mosaic-fitted  blocks 
of  a  faintly  yellow  tinge.  They  were  not  light- 
emitting  like  the  blocks  that  formed  the  walls. 
The  radiance  from  these  latter,  I  noted,  had  the 
peculiar  quality  of  thickening  a  few  yards  from  its 
source,  and  it  was  this  that  produced  the  effect 
of  misty,  veiled  distances.  As  we  walked,  the 
seven  columns  of  rays  streaming  down  from  the 
crystalline  globes  high  above  us  waned  steadily; 
the  glow  within  the  chamber  lost  its  prismatic 
shimmer  and  became  an  even  grey  tone  somewhat 
like  moonlight  in  a  thin  cloud. 

Now  before  us,  out  from  the  wall,  jutted  a  low 
terrace.  It  was  all  of  a  pearly  rose-coloured  stone, 
slender,  graceful  pillars  of  the  same  hue.  The  face 
of  the  terrace  was  about  ten  feet  high,  and  all  over 
it  ran  a  bas-relief  of  what  looked  like  short- trailing 
vines,  surmounted  by  five  stalks,  on  the  tip  of  each 
of  which  was  a  flower. 

We  passed  along  the  terrace.  It  turned  in  an 
abrupt  curve.  I  heard  a  hail,  and  there,  fifty 
feet  away,  at  the  curving  end  of  a  wall  identical 
with  that  where  we  stood,  were  Larry  and  Mar- 
akinoff .  Obviously  the  left  side  of  the  chamber 


The  Flame-Tipped  Shadows    123 

was  a  duplicate  of  that  we  had  explored.  We 
joined.  In  front  of  us  the  columned  barriers  ran 
back  a  hundred  feet,  forming  an  alcove.  The  end  of 
this  alcove  was  another  wall  of  the  same  rose  stone, 
but  upon  it  the  design  of  vines  was  much  heavier. 

We  took  a  step  forward — there  was  a  gasp  of 
awe  from  the  Norseman,  a  guttural  exclamation 
from  Marakinoff.  For  on,  or  rather  within,  the 
wall  before  us,  a  great  oval  began  to  glow,  waxed 
almost  to  a  flame  and  then  shone  steadily  out  as 
though  from  behind  it  a  light  was  streaming 
through  the  stone  itself ! 

And  within  the  roseate  oval  two  flame-tipped 
shadows  appeared,  stood  for  a  moment,  and  then 
seemed  to  float  out  upon  its  surface.  The  shadows 
wavered;  the  tips  of  flame  that  nimbused  them 
with  flickering  points  of  vermilion  pulsed  outward, 
drew  back,  darted  forth  again,  and  once  more 
withdrew  themselves — and  as  they  did  so  the 
shadows  thickened — and  suddenly  there  before  us 
stood  two  figures ! 

One  was  a  girl — a  girl  whose  great  eyes  were 
golden  as  the  fabled  lilies  of  Kwan-Yung  that  were 
born  of  the  kiss  of  the  sun  upon  the  amber  goddess 
the  demons  of  Lao-Tz'e  carved  for  him;  whose 
softly  curved  lips  were  red  as  the  royal  coral,  and 
whose  golden-brown  hair  reached  to  her  knees! 

And  the  second  was  a  gigantic  frog — a  woman 
frog,  head  helmeted  with  carapace  of  shell  around 
which  a  fillet  of  brilliant  yellow  jewels  shone;  enor 
mous  round  eyes  of  blue  circled  with  a  broad  iris 


124  The  Moon  Pool 

of  green;  monstrous  body  of  banded  orange  and 
white  girdled  with  strand  upon  strand  of  the  flash 
ing  yellow  gems;  six  feet  high  if  an  inch,  and  with 
one  webbed  paw  of  its  short,  powerfully  muscled 
forelegs  resting  upon  the  white  shoulder  oi  the 
golden-eyed  girl ! 

Moments  must  have  passed  as  we  stood  in  stark 
amazement,  gazing  at  that  incredible  apparition. 
The  two  figures,  although  as  real  as  any  of  those 
who  stood  beside  me,  unphantomlike  as  it  is  possible 
to  be,  had  a  distinct  suggestion  of — projection. 

They  were  there  before  us — golden-eyed  girl 
and  grotesque  frog-woman — complete  in  every 
line  and  curve;  and  still  it  was  as  though  their 
bodies  passed  back  through  distances;  as  though, 
to  try  to  express  the  wellnigh  inexpressible,  the 
two  shapes  we  were  looking  upon  were  the  end  of 
an  infinite  number  stretching  in  fine  linked  chain 
far  away,  of  which  the  eyes  saw  only  the  nearest, 
while  in  the  brain  some  faculty  higher  than  sight 
recognized  and  registered  \:he  unseen  others. 

The  gigantic  eyes  of  the  frog- woman  took  us  all 
in — unwinkingly.  Little  glints  of  phosphorescence 
shone  out  within  the  metallic  green  of  the  outer  iris 
ring.  She  stood  upright,  her  great  legs  bowed ;  the 
monstrous  slit  of  a  mouth  slightly  open,  revealing 
a  row  of  white  teeth  sharp  and  pointed  as  lancets ; 
the  paw  resting  on  the  girl's  shoulder,  half  covering 
its  silken  surface,  and  from  its  five  webbed  digits 
long  yellow  claws  of  polished  horn  glistening 
against  the  delicate  texture  of  the  flesh. 


The  Flame-Tipped  Shadows    125 

But  if  the  frog-woman  regarded  us  all,  not  so 
did  the  maiden  of  the  rosy  wall.  Her  eyes  were 
fastened  upon  Larry,  drinking  him  in  with  extra 
ordinary  intentness.  She  was  tall,  far  over  the 
average  of  woman,  almost  as  tall,  indeed,  as 
O'Keefe  himself;  not  more  than  twenty  years  old, 
if  that,  I  thought.  Abruptly  she  leaned  forward, 
the  golden  eyes  softened  and  grew  tender;  the  red 
lips  moved  as  though  she  were  speaking. 

Larry  took  a  quick  step,  and  his  face  was  that 
of  one  who  after  countless  births  comes  at  last  upon 
the  twin  soul  lost  to  him  for  ages.  The  frog- woman 
turned  her  eyes  upon  the  girl ;  her  huge  lips  moved, 
and  I  knew  that  she  was  talking!  The  girl  held 
out  a  warning  hand  to  O'Keefe,  and  then  raised  it, 
resting  each  finger  upon  one  of  the  five  flowers  of 
the  carved  vine  close  beside  her.  Once,  twice, 
three  times,  she  pressed  upon  the  flower  centres, 
and  I  noted  that  her  hand  was  curiously  long  and 
slender,  the  digits  like  those  wonderful  tapering 
ones  the  painters  we  call  the  primitive  gave  to 
their  Virgins. 

Three  times  she  pressed  the  flowers,  and  then 
looked  intently  at  Larry  once  more.  A  slow,  sweet 
smile  curved  the  crimson  lips.  She  stretched  'joth 
hands  out  toward  him  again  eagerly;  a  burning 
blush  rose  swiftly  over  white  breasts  and  flowerlike 
face. 

Like  the  clicking  out  of  a  cinematograph,  the 
pulsing  oval  faded  and  golden-eyed  girl  and  frog- 
woman  were  gone! 


126  The  Moon  Pool 

And  thus  it  was  that  Lakla,  the  handmaiden  of 
the  Silent  Ones,  and  Larry  O'Keefe  first  looked 
into  each  other's  hearts ! 

Larry  stood  rapt,  gazing  at  the  stone. 

' '  Eilidh, ' '  I  heard  him  whisper ;  ' '  Eilidh  of  the  lips 
like  the  red,  red  rowan  and  the  golden-brown  hair ! " 

"Clearly  of  the  Ranadae,"  said  Marakinoff, 
"a  development  of  the  fossil  Labyrinthodonts : 
you  saw  her  teeth,  Da?" 

"Ranadae,  yes,"  I  answered.  "But  from  the 
Stegocephalia;  of  the  order  Ecaudata " 

Never  such  a  complete  indignation  as  was  in 
O'Keefe's  voice  as  he  interrupted. 

"What  do  you  mean — fossils  and  Stego  what 
ever  it  is?"  he  asked.  "She  was  a  girl,  a  wonder 
girl — a  real  girl,  and  Irish,  or  I'm  not  an  O'Keefe!" 

' '  We  were  talking  about  the  frog- woman,  Larry, ' ' 
I  said,  conciliatingly. 

His  eyes  were  wild  as  he  regarded  us. 

"Say,"  he  said,  "if  you  two  had  been  in  the 
Garden  of  Eden  when  Eve  took  the  apple,  you 
wouldn't  have  had  time  to  give  her  a  look  for 
counting  the  scales  on  the  snake!" 

He  strode  swiftly  over  to  the  wall.  We  followed. 
Larry  paused,  stretched  his  hand  up  to  the  flowers 
on  which  the  tapering  fingers  of  the  golden-eyed 
girl  had  rested. 

"It  was  here  she  put  up  her  hand,"  he  mur 
mured.  He  pressed  caressingly  the  carved  calyxes, 
once,  twice,  a  third  time  even  as  she  had — and 
silently  and  softly  the  wall  began  to  split ;  on  each 


The  Flame-Tipped  Shadows    127 

side  a  great  stone  pivoted  slowly,  and  before  us  a 
portal  stood,  opening  into  a  narrow  corridor  glow 
ing  with  the  same  rosy  lustre  that  had  gleamed 
around  the  flame-tipped  shadows! 

' '  Have  your  gun  ready,  Olaf !"  said  Larry.  ' '  We 
follow  Golden  Eyes, "  he  said  to  me. 

"Follow?"  I  echoed  stupidly. 

"Follow!"  he  said.  "She  came  to  show  us  the 
way!  Follow?  I'd  follow  her  through  a  thousand 
hells!" 

And  with  Olaf  at  one  end,  O'Keefe  at  the  other, 
both  of  them  with  automatics  in  hand,  and  Mar- 
akinoff  and  I  between  them,  we  stepped  over  the 
threshold. 

At  our  right,  a  few  feet  away,  the  passage  ended 
abruptly  in  a  square  of  polished  stone,  from  which 
came  faint  rose  radiance.  The  roof  of  the  place 
was  less  than  two  feet  over  O'Keefe's  head. 

A  yard  at  left  of  us  lifted  a  four-foot  high, 
gently  curved  barricade,  stretching  from  wall  to 
wall — and  beyond  it  was  blackness;  an  utter  and 
appalling  blackness  that  seemed  to  gather  itself 
from  infinite  depths.  The  rose-glow  in  which  we 
stood  was  cut  off  by  that  blackness  as  though  it 
had  substance ;  it  shimmered  out  to  meet  it,  and 
was  checked  as  though  by  a  blow;  indeed,  so  strong 
was  the  suggestion  of  sinister,  straining  force 
within  the  rayless  opacity  that  I  shrank  back,  and 
Marakinoff  with  me.  Not  so  O'Keefe.  Olaf 
beside  him,  he  strode  to  the  wall  and  peered  over. 
He  beckoned  us. 


128  The  Moon  Pool 

"Flash  your  pocket-light  down  there,"  he  said 
to  me,  pointing  into  the  thick  darkness  below  us. 
The  little  electric  circle  quivered  down  as  though 
afraid,  and  came  to  rest  upon  a  surface  that  re 
sembled  nothing  so  much  as  clear,  black  ice.  I  ran 
the  light  across — here  and  there.  The  floor  of  the 
corridor  was  of  a  substance  so  smooth,  so  polished, 
that  no  man  could  have  walked  upon  it;  it  sloped 
downward  at  a  slowly  increasing  angle. 

"We'd  have  to  have  non-skid  chains  and  brakes 
on  our  feet  to  tackle  that,"  mused  Larry.  Ab 
stractedly  he  ran  his  hands  over  the  edge  on  which 
he  was  leaning.  Suddenly  they  hesitated  and  then 
gripped  tightly. 

"That's  a  queer  one!"  he  exclaimed.  His  right 
palm  was  resting  upon  a  rounded  protuberance, 
on  the  side  of  which  were  three  small  circular  in 
dentations. 

"A  queer  one — "  he  repeated — and  pressed  his 
fingers  upon  the  circles. 

There  was  a  sharp  click;  the  slabs  that  had 
opened  to  let  us  through  swung  swiftly  together; 
a  curiously  rapid  vibration  thrilled  through  us,  a 
wind  arose  and  passed  over  our  heads — a  wind  that 
grew  and  grew  until  it  became  a  whistling  shriek, 
then  a  roar  and  then  a  mighty  humming,  to  which 
every  atom  in  our  bodies  pulsed  in  rhythm  painful 
almost  to  disintegration! 

The  rosy  wall  dwindled  in  a  flash  to  a  point  of 
light  and  disappeared! 

Wrapped  in  the  clinging,  impenetrable  blackness 


The  Flame-Tipped  Shadows    129 

we  were  racing,  dropping,  hurling  at  a  frightful 
speed — where? 

And  ever  that  awful  humming  of  the  rushing 
wind  and  the  lightning  cleaving  of  the  tangible 
dark — so,  it  came  to  me  oddly,  must  the  newly 
released  soul  race  through  the  sheer  blackness  of 
outer  space  up  to  that  Throne  of  Justice,  where 
God  sits  high  above  all  suns! 

I  felt  Marakinoff  creep  close  to  me;  gripped 
my  nerve  and  flashed  my  pocket-light;  saw  Larry 
standing,  peering,  peering  ahead,  and  Huldricks- 
son,  one  strong  arm  around  his  shoulders,  bracing 
him.  And  then  the  speed  began  to  slacken. 

Millions  of  miles,  it  seemed,  below  the  sound  of 
the  unearthly  hurricane  I  heard  Larry's  voice, 
thin  and  ghostlike,  beneath  its  clamour. 

"Got  it!"  shrilled  the  voice.  "Got  it!  Don't 
worry!" 

The  wind  died  down  to  the  roar,  passed  back 
into  the  whistling  shriek  and  diminished  to  a  steady 
whisper.  In  the  comparative  quiet  O'Keefe's 
tones  now  came  in  normal  volume. 

"Some  little  shoot-the-chutes,  what?"  he 
shouted.  "Say — if  they  had  this  at  Coney  Island 
or  the  Crystal  Palace!  Press  all  the  way  in 
these  holes  and  she  goes  top-high.  Diminish  pres 
sure — diminish  speed.  The  curve  of  this — dash 
board — here  sends  the  wind  shooting  up  over 
our  heads — like  a  wind-shield.  What's  behind 
you?" 

I  flashed  the  light  back.     The  mechanism  on 


130  The  Moon  Pool 

which  we  were  ended  in  another  wall  exactly  simi 
lar  to  that  over  which  O'Keefe  crouched. 

"Well,  we  can't  fall  out,  anyway,"  he  laughed. 
"Wish  to  hell  I  knew  where  the  brakes  were! 
Lookout!" 

We  dropped  dizzily  down  an  abrupt,  seemingly 
endless  slope;  fell — fell  as  into  an  abyss — then 
shot  abruptly  out  of  the  blackness  into  a  throb 
bing  green  radiance.  O'Keefe's  fingers  must  have 
pressed  down  upon  the  controls,  for  we  leaped 
forward  almost  with  the  speed  of  light.  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  luminous  immensities  on  the  verge 
of  which  we  flew;  of  depths  inconceivable,  and 
flitting  through  the  incredible  spaces — gigantic 
shadows  as  of  the  wings  of  Israfel,  which  are  so 
wide,  say  the  Arabs,  the  world  can  cower  under 
them  like  a  nestling — and  then — again  the  living 
blackness ! 

"What  was  that?"  This  from  Larry,  with  the 
nearest  approach  to  awe  that  he  had  yet  shown. 

"Trolldom!"  croaked  the  voice  of  Olaf. 

"Chert!"  This  from  MarakinofL  "What  a 
space ! 

"Have  you  considered,  Dr.  Goodwin,"  he  went 
on  after  a  pause,  "a  curious  thing?  We  know,  or, 
at  least,  is  it  not  that  nine  out  of  ten  astronomers 
believe,  that  the  moon  was  hurled  out  of  this  same 
region  we  now  call  the  Pacific  when  the  earth  was 
yet  like  molasses;  almost  molten,  I  should  say. 
And  is  it  not  curious  that  that  which  comes  from 
the  Moon  Chamber  needs  the  moon-rays  to  bring 


The  Flame-Tipped  Shadows    131 

it  forth;  is  it  not?  And  is  it  not  significant  again 
that  the  stone  depends  upon  the  moon  for  operat 
ing  ?  Da!  And  last — such  a  space  in  mother  earth 
as  we  just  glimpsed,  how  else  could  it  have  been 
torn  but  by  some  gigantic  birth — like  that  of  the 
moon  ?  Da?  I  do  not  put  forward  these  as  state 
ments  of  fact — no!  But  as  suggestions " 

I  started;  there  was  so  much  that  this  might 
explain — an  unknown  element  that  responded  to 
the  moon-rays  in  opening  the  moon  door;  the  blue 
Pool  with  its  weird  radioactivity,  and  the  force 
within  it  that  reacted  to  the  same  light  stream 

It  was  not  inconceivable  that  a  film  had  drawn 
over  the  world  wound,  a  film  of  earth-flesh  which 
drew  itself  over  that  colossal  abyss  after  our  planet 
had  borne  its  satellite — that  world  womb  did  not 
close  when  her  shining  child  sprang  forth — it  was 
possible;  and  all  that  we  know  of  earth  depth  is 
four  miles  of  her  eight  thousand. 

What  is  there  at  the  heart  of  earth?  What  of 
that  radiant  unknown  element  upon  the  moon 
mount  Tycho?  What  of  that  element  unknown 
to  us  as  part  of  earth  which  is  seen  only  in  the 
corona  of  the  sun  at  eclipse  and  that  we  call  cor- 
onium?  Yet  the  earth  is  child  of  the  sun  as  the 
moon  is  earth's  daughter.  And  what  of  that  other 
unknown  element  we  find  glowing  green  in  the 
far-flung  nebulae — green  as  that  we  had  just 
passed  through — and  that  we  call  nebulium?  Yet 
the  sun  is  child  of  the  nebulae  as  the  earth  is  child 
of  the  sun  and  the  moon  is  child  of  earth. 


132  The  Moon  Pool 

And  what  miracles  are  there  in  coronium  and 
nebulium  which,  as  the  child  of  nebula  and  sun,  we 
inherit?  Yes — and  in  Tycho's  enigma  which  came 
from  earth  heart? 

We  were  flashing  down  to  earth  heart!  And 
what  miracles  were  hidden  there? 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    END    OF    THE    JOURNEY 

"SAY  Doc!"  It  was  Larry's  voice  flung  back 
at  me.  "I  was  thinking  about  that  frog.  I  think 
it  was  her  pet.  Damn  me  if  I  see  any  difference 
between  a  frog  and  a  snake,  and  one  of  the  nicest 
women  I  ever  knew  had  two  pet  pythons  that 
followed  her  around  like  kittens.  Not  such  a 
devilish  lot  of  choice  between  a  frog  and  a  snake — 
except  on  the  side  of  the  frog?  What?  Anyway, 
any  pet  that  girl  wants  is  hers,  I  don't  care  if  it's 
a  leaping  twelve-toed  lobster  or  a  whale-bodied 
scorpion.  Get  me?" 

By  which  I  knew  that  our  remarks  upon  the 
frog  woman  were  still  bothering  O'Keefe. 

"He  thinks  of  foolish  nothings  like  the  foolish 
sailor!"  grunted  Marakinoff,  acid  contempt  in 
his  words.  "What  are  their  women  to — this?" 
He  swept  out  a  hand  and  as  though  at  a  signal  the 
car  poised  itself  for  an  instant,  then  dipped,  liter 
ally  dipped  down  into  sheer  space;  skimmed  for 
ward  in  what  was  clearly  curved  flight,  rose  as 
upon  a  sweeping  up-grade — and  then  began  swiftly 
to  slacken  its  fearful  speed- 


134  The  Moon  Pool 

Far  ahead  a  point  of  light  showed ;  grew  steadily; 
we  were  within  it — and  softly  all  movement  ceased. 
How  acute  had  been  the  strain  of  our  journey  I  did 
not  realize  until  I  tried  to  stand — and  sank  back, 
leg-muscles  too  shaky  to  bear  my  weight.  The 
car  rested  in  a  slit  in  the  centre  of  a  smooth  walled 
chamber  perhaps  twenty  feet  square.  The  wall 
facing  us  was  pierced  by  a  low  doorway  through 
which  we  could  see  a  flight  of  steps  leading  down 
ward. 

The  light  streamed  through  a  small  opening,  the 
base  of  which  was  twice  a  tall  man's  height  from 
the  floor.  A  curving  flight  of  broad,  low  steps  led 
up  to  it.  And  now  it  came  to  my  steadying  brain 
that  there  was  something  puzzling,  peculiar, 
strangely  unfamiliar  about  this  light.  It  was 
silvery,  shaded  faintly  with  a  delicate  blue  and 
flushed  lightly  with  a  nacreous  rose;  but  a  rose 
that  differed  from  that  of  the  terraces  of  the  Pool 
Chamber  as  the  rose  within  the  opal  differs  from 
that  within  the  pearl.  In  it  were  tiny,  gleaming 
points  like  the  motes  in  a  sunbeam,  but  sparkling 
white  like  the  dust  of  diamonds,  and  with  a  quality 
of  vibrant  vitality ;  they  were  as  though  they  were 
alive.  The  light  cast  no  shadows ! 

A  little  breeze  came  through  the  oval  and  played 
about  us.  It  was  laden  with  what  seemed  the 
mingled  breath  of  spice  flowers  and  pines.  It  was 
curiously  vivifying,  and  in  it  the  diamonded  atoms 
of  the  light  shook  and  danced. 

I  stepped  out  of  the  car,  the  Russian  following, 


The  End  of  the  Journey        135 

and  began  to  ascend  the  curved  steps  toward  the 
opening,  at  the  top  of  which  O'Keefe  and  Olaf 
already  stood.  As  they  looked  out  I  saw  both  their 
faces  change — Olaf's  with  awe,  O'Keefe's  with 
incredulous  amaze.  I  hurried  to  their  side. 

At  first  all  that  I  could  see  was  space — a  space 
filled  with  the  same  coruscating  effulgence  that 
pulsed  about  me.  I  glanced  upward,  obeying  that 
instinctive  impulse  of  earth  folk  that  bids  them 
seek  within  the  sky  for  sources  of  light.  There  was 
no  sky — at  least  no  sky  such  as  we  know — all  was 
a  sparkling  nebulosity  rising  into  infinite  distances 
as  the  azure  above  the  day-world  seems  to  fill  all 
the  heavens — through  it  ran  pulsing  waves  and 
flashing  javelin  rays  that  were  like  shining  shadows 
of  the  aurora;  echoes,  octaves  lower,  of  those  bril 
liant  arpeggios  and  chords  that  play  about  the 
poles.  My  eyes  fell  beneath  its  splendour;  I  stared 
outward. 

Miles  away,  gigantic  luminous  cliffs  sprang  sheer 
from  the  limits  of  a  lake  whose  waters  were  of 
milky  opalescence.  It  was  from  these  cliffs  that 
the  spangled  radiance  came,  shimmering  out  from 
all  their  lustrous  surfaces.  To  left  and  to  right, 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  they  stretched — and 
they  vanished  in  the  auroral  nebulosity  on  high ! 

"Look  at  that!"  exclaimed  Larry.  I  followed 
his  pointing  finger.  On  the  face  of  the  shining  wall, 
stretched  between  two  colossal  columns,  hung  an 
incredible  veil;  prismatic,  gleaming  with  all  the 
colours  of  the  spectrum.  It  was  like  a  web  of  rain- 


136  The  Moon  Pool 

bows  woven  by  the  fingers  of  the  daughters  of  the 
Jinn.  In  front  of  it  and  a  little  at  each  side  was 
a  semicircular  pier,  or,  better,  a  plaza  of  what 
appeared  to  be  glistening,  pale-yellow  ivory.  At 
each  end  of  its  half -circle  clustered  a  few  low- 
walled,  rose-stone  structures,  each  of  them  sur 
mounted  by  a  number  of  high,  slender  pinnacles. 

We  looked  at  each  other,  I  think,  a  bit  helplessly 
— and  back  again  through  the  opening.  We  were 
standing,  as  I  have  said,  at  its  base.  The  wall  in 
which  it  was  set  was  at  least  ten  feet  thick,  and  so, 
of  course,  all  that  we  could  see  of  that  which  was 
without  were  the  distances  that  revealed  them 
selves  above  the  outer  ledge  of  the  oval. 

"Let's  take  a  look  at  what's  under  us,"  said 
Larry. 

He  crept  out  upon  the  ledge  and  peered  down, 
the  rest  of  us  following.  A  hundred  yards  beneath 
us  stretched  gardens  that  must  have  been  like 
those  of  many-columned  Iram,  which  the  ancient 
Addite  King  had  built  for  his  pleasure  ages  before 
the  deluge,  and  which  Allah,  so  the  Arab  legend 
tells,  took  and  hid  from  man,  within  the  Sahara, 
beyond  all  hope  of  finding — jealous  because  they 
were  more  beautiful  than  his  in  paradise.  Within 
them  flowers  and  groves  of  laced,  fernlike  trees, 
pillared  pavilions  nestled. 

The  trunks  of  the  trees  were  of  emerald,  of  ver 
milion,  and  of  azure-blue,  and  the  blossoms,  whose 
fragrance  was  borne  to  us,  shone  like  jewels.  The 
graceful  pillars  were  tinted  delicately.  I  noted 


The  End  of  the  Journey 

that  the  pavilions  were  double — in  a  way,  two- 
storied — and  that  they  were  oddly  splotched  with 
circles,  with  squares,  and  with  oblongs  of — opacity; 
noted  too  that  over  many  this  opacity  stretched 
like  a  roof;  yet  it  did  not  seem  material;  rather 
was  it — impenetrable  shadow ! 

Down  through  this  city  of  gardens  ran  a  broad 
shining  green  thoroughfare,  glistening  like  glass 
and  spanned  at  regular  intervals  with  graceful, 
arched  bridges.  The  road  flashed  to  a  wide  square, 
where  rose,  from  a  base  of  that  same  silvery  stone 
that  formed  the  lip  of  the  Moon  Pool,  a  Titanic 
structure  of  seven  terraces;  and  along  it  flitted 
objects  that  bore  a  curious  resemblance  to  the 
shell  of  the  Nautilus.  Within  them  were — human 
figures!  And  upon  tree-bordered  promenades  on 
each  side  walked  others! 

Far  to  the  right  we  caught  the  glint  of  another 
emerald-paved  road. 

And  between  the  two  the  gardens  grew  sweetly 
down  to  the  hither  side  of  that  opalescent  water 
across  which  were  the  radiant  cliffs  and  the  curtain 
of  mystery. 

Thus  it  was  that  we  first  saw  the  city  of  the 
Dweller;  blessed  and  accursed  as  no  place  on 
earth,  or  under  or  above  earth  has  ever  been — or, 
that  force  willing  which  some  call  God,  ever  again 
shall  be ! 

"Chert!"  whispered  Marakinoff.    "Incredible!'" 

4 '  Trolldom ! ' '  gasped  Olaf  Huldricksson.  "  It  is 
Trolldom!" 


138  The  Moon  Pool 

"Listen,  Olaf!"  said  Larry.  "Cut  out  that 
Trolldom  stuff!  There's  no  Trolldom,  or  fairies, 
outside  Ireland.  Get  that !  And  this  isn't  Ireland. 
And,  buck  up,  Professor!"  This  to  MarakinofL 
"What  you  see  down  there  are  people — just  plain 
people.  And  wherever  there's  people  is  where  / 
live.  Get  me? 

"There's  no  way  in  but  in — and  no  way  out  but 
out,"  said  O'Keefe.  "And  there's  the  stairway. 
Eggs  are  eggs  no  matter  how  they're  cooked — and 
people  are  just  people,  fellow  travellers,  no  matter 
what  dish  they  are  in,"  he  concluded.  "Come 
on!" 

With  the  three  of  us  close  behind  him,  he 
marched  toward  the  entranco. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

YOLARA,    PRIESTESS   OF  THE   SHINING  ONE 

"You'D  better  have  this  handy,  Doc."  O'Keefe 
paused  at  the  head  of  the  stairway  and  handed 
me  one  of  the  automatics  he  had  taken  from  Mar- 
akinoff. 

"Shall  I  not  have  one  also?"  rather  anxiously 
asked  the  latter. 

"When  you  need  it  you'll  get  it,"  answered 
O'Keefe.  "I'll  tell  you  frankly,  though,  Professor, 
that  you'll  have  to  show  me  before  I  trust  you  with 
a  gun.  You  shoot  too  straight — from  cover." 

The  flash  of  anger  in  the  Russian's  eyes  turned 
to  a  cold  consideration. 

"You  say  always  just  what  is  in  your  mind, 
Lieutenant  O'Keefe,"  he  mused.  "Da — that  I 
shall  remember!"  Later  I  was  to  recall  this  odd 
observation — and  Marakinoff  was  to  remember 
indeed. 

In  single  file,  O'Keefe  at  the  head  and  Olaf 
bringing  up  the  rear,  we  passed  through  the  portal. 
Before  us  dropped  a  circular  shaft,  into  which  the 
light  from  the  chamber  of  the  oval  streamed 
liquidly;  set  in  its  sides  the  steps  spiralled,  and 

139 


140  The  Moon  Pool 

down  them  we  went,  cautiously.  The  stairway 
ended  in  a  circular  well;  silent — with  no  trace  of 
exit !  The  rounded  stones  joined  each  other  evenly 
— hermetically.  Carved  on  one  of  the  slabs  was 
one  of  the  five  flowered  vines.  I  pressed  my  fingers 
upon  the  calyxes,  even  as  Larry  had  within  the 
Moon  Chamber. 

A  crack — horizontal,  four  feet  wide — appeared 
on  the  wall;  widened,  and  as  the  sinking  slab  that 
made  it  dropped  to  the  level  of  our  eyes,  we  looked 
through  a  hundred-feet-long  rift  in  the  living  rock ! 
The  stone  fell  steadily — and  we  saw  that  it  was  a 
Cyclopean  wedge  set  within  the  slit  of  the  passage 
way.  It  reached  the  level  of  our  feet  and  stopped. 
At  the  far  end  of  this  tunnel,  whose  floor  was  the 
polished  rock  that  had,  a  moment  before,  fitted 
hermetically  into  its  roof,  was  a  low,  narrow  tri 
angular  opening  through  which  light  streamed. 

' '  Nowhere  to  go  but  out ! ' '  grinned  Larry.  ' '  And 
I '11  bet  Golden  Eyes  is  waiting  for  us  with  a  taxi! " 
He  stepped  forward.  We  followed,  slipping,  sliding 
along  the  glassy  surface;  and  I,  for  one,  had  a 
lively  apprehension  of  what  our  fate  would  be 
should  that  enormous  mass  rise  before  we  had 
emerged!  We  reached  the  end;  crept  out  of  the 
narrow  triangle  that  was  its  exit. 

We  stood  upon  a  wide  ledge  carpeted  with  a 
thick  yellow  moss.  I  looked  behind — and  clutched 
O'Keefe's  arm.  The  door  through  which  we  had 
come  had  vanished !  There  was  only  a  precipice  of 
pale  rock,  on  whose  surfaces  great  patches  of  the 


Yolara,  Priestess  of  Shining  One 

amber  moss  hung;  around  whose  base  our  ledge 
ran,  and  whose  summits,  if  summits  it  had,  were 
hidden,  like  the  luminous  cliffs,  in  the  radiance 
above  us. 

"Nowhere  to  go  but  ahead — and  Golden  Eyes 
hasn't  kept  her  date!"  laughed  O'Keefe — but 
somewhat  grimly. 

We  walked  a  few  yards  along  the  ledge  and, 
rounding  a  corner,  faced  the  end  of  one  of  the 
slender  bridges.  From  this  vantage  point  the 
oddly  shaped  vehicles  were  plain,  and  we  could 
see  they  were,  indeed,  like  the  shell  of  the  Nautilus 
and  elfinly  beautiful.  Their  drivers  sat  high  upon 
the  forward  whorl.  Their  bodies  were  piled  high 
with  cushions,  upon  which  lay  women  half -swathed 
in  gay  silken  webs.  From  the  pavilioned  gardens 
smaller  channels  of  glistening  green  ran  into  the 
broad  way,  much  as  automobile  runways  do  on 
earth;  and  in  and  out  of  them  flashed  the  fairy 
shells. 

There  came  a  shout  from  one.  Its  occupants 
had  glimpsed  us.  They  pointed;  others  stopped 
and  stared;  one  shell  turned  and  sped  up  a  run 
way — and  quickly  over  the  other  side  of  the  bridge 
came  a  score  of  men.  They  were  dwarfed — none  of 
them  more  than  five  feet  high,  prodigiously  broad 
of  shoulder,  clearly  enormously  powerful. 

"Trolde!"  muttered  Olaf,  stepping  beside 
O'Keefe,  pistol  swinging  free  in  his  hand. 

But  at  the  middle  of  the  bridge  the  leader 
stopped,  waved  back  his  men,  and  came  toward 


142  The  Moon  Pool 

us  alone,  palms  outstretched  in  the  immemorial, 
universal  gesture  of  truce.  He  paused,  scanning 
us  with  manifest  wonder;  we  returned  the  scrutiny 
with  interest.  The  dwarf's  face  was  as  white  as 
Olaf 's — far  whiter  than  those  of  the  other  three  of 
us;  the  features  clean-cut  and  noble,  almost  classi^ 
cal;  the  wide  set  eyes  of  a  curious  greenish  grey 
and  the  black  hair  curling  over  his  head  like  that 
on  some  old  Greek  statue. 

Dwarfed  though  he  was,  there  was  no  suggestion 
of  deformity  about  him.  The  gigantic  shoulders 
were  covered  with  a  loose  green  tunic  that  looked 
like  fine  linen.  It  was  caught  in  at  the  waist  by  a 
broad  girdle  studded  with  what  seemed  to  be 
amazonites.  In  it  was  thrust  a  long  curved  po 
niard  resembling  the  Malaysian  kris.  His  legs 
were  swathed  in  the  same  green  cloth  as  the  upper 
garment.  His  feet  were  sandalled. 

My  gaze  returned  to  his  face,  and  in  it  I  found 
something  subtly  disturbing;  an  expression  of  half- 
malicious  gaiety  that  underlay  the  wholly  pre 
possessing  features  like  a  vague  threat ;  a  mocking 
deviltry  that  hinted  at  entire  callousness  to  suffer 
ing  or  sorrow;  something  of  the  spirit  that  was 
vaguely  alien  and  disquieting. 

He  spoke — and,  to  my  surprise,  enough  of  the 
words  were  familiar  to  enable  me  clearly  to  catch 
the  meaning  of  the  whole.  They  were  Polynesian, 
the  Polynesian  of  the  Samoans  which  is  its  most 
ancient  form,  but  in  some  indefinable  way — 
archaic.  Later  I  was  to  know  that  the  tongue  bore 


Yolara,  Priestess  of  Shining  One     H3 

the  same  relation  to  the  Polynesian  of  today  as 
does  not  that  of  Chaucer,  but  of  the  Venerable 
Bede,  to  modern  English.  Nor  was  this  to  be  so 
astonishing,  when  with  the  knowledge  came  the 
certainty  that  it  was  from  it  the  language  we  call 
Polynesian  sprang. 

"From  whence  do  you  come,  strangers — and 
how  found  you  your  way  here?"  said  the  green 
dwarf. 

I  waved  my  hand  toward  the  cliff  behind  us. 
His  eyes  narrowed  incredulously;  he  glanced  at  its 
drop,  upon  which  even  a  mountain  goat  could  not 
have  made  its  way,  and  laughed. 

"We  came  through  the  rock,"  I  answered  his 
thought.  "And  we  come  in  peace, "  I  added. 

"And  may  peace  walk  with  you, "  he  said  half- 
derisively — "if  the  Shining  One  wills  it!" 

He  considered  us  again. 

"Show  me,  strangers,  where  you  came  through 
the  rock,"  he  commanded.  We  led  the  way  to 
where  we  had  emerged  from  the  well  of  the  stair 
way. 

"It  was  here, "  I  said,  tapping  the  cliff. 

"But  I  see  no  opening, "  he  said  suavely. 

"It  closed  behind  us,"  I  answered;  and  then, 
for  the  first  time,  realized  how  incredible  the  ex 
planation  sounded.  The  derisive  gleam  passed 
through  his  eyes  again.  But  he  drew  his  poniard 
and  gravely  sounded  the  rock. 

"You  give  a  strange  turn  to  our  speech,"  he 
said.  "It  sounds  strangely,  indeed — as  strange 


144  The  Moon  Pool 

as  your  answers."  He  looked  at  us  quizzically. 
"I  wonder  where  you  learned  it!  Well,  all  that 
you  can  explain  to  the  Afyo  Maie."  His  head 
bowed  and  his  arms  swept  out  in  a  wide  salaam. 
"Be  pleased  to  come  with  me! "  he  ended  abruptly. 

"In  peace?"    I  asked. 

"In  peace,"  he  replied — then  slowly — "with 
me  at  least." 

"Oh,  come  on,  Doc!"  cried  Larry.  "As  long 
as  we're  here  let's  see  the  sights.  Allans  mon 
vieux!"  he  called  gaily  to  the  green  dwarf.  The 
latter,  understanding  the  spirit,  if  not  the  words, 
looked  at  O'Keefe  with  a  twinkle  of  approval; 
turned  then  to  the  great  Norseman  and  scanned 
him  with  admiration;  reached  out  and  squeezed 
one  of  the  immense  biceps. 

"Lugur  will  welcome  you,  at  least,"  he  mur 
mured  as  though  to  himself.  He  stood  aside  and 
waved  a  hand  courteously,  inviting  us  to  pass. 
We  crossed.  At  the  base  of  the  span  one  of  the 
elfin  shells  was  waiting. 

Beyond,  scores  had  gathered,  their  occupants 
evidently  discussing  us  in  much  excitement.  The 
green  dwarf  waved  us  to  the  piles  of  cushions  and 
then  threw  himself  beside  us.  The  vehicle  started 
off  smoothly,  the  now  silent  throng  making  way, 
and  swept  down  the  green  roadway  at  a  terrific 
pace  and  wholly  without  vibration,  toward  the 
seven-terraced  tower. 

As  we  flew  along  I  tried  to  discover  the  source 
of  the  power,  but  I  could  not — then.  There  was 


Yolara,  Priestess  of  Shining  One     145 

no  sign  of  mechanism,  but  that  the  shell  responded 
to  some  form  of  energy  was  certain — the  driver 
grasping  a  small  lever  which  seemed  to  control  not 
only  our  speed,  but  our  direction. 

We  turned  abruptly  and  swept  up  a  runway 
through  one  of  the  gardens,  and  stopped  softly 
before  a  pillared  pavilion.  I  saw  now  that  these 
were  much  larger  than  I  had  thought.  The  struc 
ture  to  which  we  had  been  carried  covered,  I  esti 
mated,  fully  an  acre.  Oblong,  with  its  slender, 
vari-coloured  columns  spaced  regularly,  its  walls 
were  like  the  sliding  screens  of  the  Japanese — 
shoji. 

The  green  dwarf  hurried  us  up  a  flight  of  broad 
steps  flanked  by  great  carved  serpents,  winged  and 
scaled.  He  stamped  twice  upon  mosaicked  stones 
between  two  of  the  pillars,  and  a  screen  rolled  aside, 
revealing  an  immense  hall  scattered  about  with 
low  divans  on  which  lolled  a  dozen  or  more  of  the 
dwarfish  men,  dressed  identically  as  he. 

They  sauntered  up  to  us  leisurely;  the  surprised 
interest  in  their  faces  tempered  by  the  same  in 
humanly  gay  malice  that  seemed  to  be  characteris 
tic  of  all  these  people  we  had  as  yet  seen. 

"The  Afyo  Maie  awaits  them,  Rador, "  said  one. 

The  green  dwarf  nodded,  beckoned  us,  and  led 
the  way  through  the  great  hall  and  into  a  smaller 
chamber  whose  far  side  was  covered  with  the  opac 
ity  I  had  noted  from  the  aerie  of  the  cliff.  I  ex 
amined  the — blackness — with  lively  interest. 

It  had  neither  substance  nor  texture;  it  was  not 


146  The  Moon  Pool 

matter — and  yet  it  suggested  solidity;  an  entire 
cessation,  a  complete  absorption  of  light;  an  ebon 
veil  at  once  immaterial  and  palpable.  I  stretched, 
involuntarily,  my  hand  out  toward  it,  and  felt  it 
quickly  drawn  back. 

"Do  you  seek  your  end  so  soon?"  whispered 
Rador.  "But  I  forget — you  do  not  know,"  he 
added.  "On  your  life  touch  not  the  blackness, 
ever.  It " 

He  stopped,  for  abruptly  in  the  density  a  portal 
appeared;  springing  out  of  the  shadow  like  a  pic 
ture  thrown  by  a  lantern  upon  a  screen.  Through 
it  was  revealed  a  chamber  filled  with  a  soft,  rosy 
glow.  Rising  from  cushioned  couches,  a  woman 
and  a  man  regarded  us,  half  leaning  over  a  long, 
low  table  of  what  seemed  polished  jet,  laden  with 
flowers  and  unfamiliar  fruits. 

About  the  room — that  part  of  it,  at  least,  that 
I  could  see — were  a  few  oddly  shaped  chairs  of  the 
same  substance.  On  high,  silvery  tripods  three 
immense  globes  stood,  and  it  was  from  them  that 
the  rose  glow  emanated.  At  the  side  of  the  woman 
was  a  smaller  globe  whose  roseate  gleam  was 
tempered  by  quivering  waves  of  blue. 

' '  Enter  Rador  with  the  strangers ! "  a  clear,  sweet 
voice  called. 

Rador  bowed  deeply  and  stood  aside,  motioning 
us  to  pass.  We  entered,  the  green  dwarf  behind 
us,  and  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye  I  saw  the  door 
way  fade  as  abruptly  as  it  had  appeared  and  again 
the  dense  shadow  fill  its  place. 


Yolara,  Priestess  of  Shining  One     14? 

"Come  closer,  strangers.  Be  not  afraid!" 
commanded  the  bell-toned  voice. 

We  approached. 

The  woman,  sober  scientist  that  I  am,  made  the 
breath  catch  in  my  throat.  Never  had  I  seen  a 
woman  so  beautiful  as  was  Yolara  of  the  Dweller's 
city — and  none  of  so  perilous  a  beauty.  Her  hair 
was  of  the  colour  of  the  young  tassels  of  the  corn 
and  coiled  in  a  regal  crown  above  her  broad,  white 
brows;  her  wide  eyes  were  of  grey  that  could 
change  to  a  corn-flower  blue  and  in  anger  deepen 
to  purple;  grey  or  blue,  they  had  little  laughing 
devils  within  them,  but  when  the  storm  of  anger 
darkened  them — they  were  not  laughing,  no! 

The  silken  webs  that  half  covered,  half  revealed 
her  did  not  hide  the  ivory  whiteness  of  her  flesh 
nor  the  sweet  curve  of  shoulders  and  breasts.  But 
for  all  her  amazing  beauty,  she  was — sinister  f 
There  was  cruelty  about  the  curving  mouth,  and 
in  the  music  of  her  voice — not  conscious  cruelty, 
but  the  more  terrifying,  careless  cruelty  of  nature 
itself. 

The  girl  of  the  rose  wall  had  been  beautiful,  yes! 
But  her  beaut}*-  was  human,  understandable.  You 
could  imagine  her  with  a  babe  in  her  arms — but 
you  could  not  so  imagine  this  woman.  About  her 
loveliness  hovered  something  unearthly.  A  sweet 
feminine  echo  of  the  Dweller  was  Yolara,  the 
Dweller's  priestess — and  as  gloriously,  terrifyingly 
evil! 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  JUSTICE  OF  LORA 

As  I  looked  at  her  the  man  arose  and  made  his 
way  round  the  table  toward  us.  For  the  first  time 
my  eyes  took  in  Lugur.  A  few  inches  taller  than 
the  green  dwarf,  he  was  far  broader,  more  filled 
with  the  suggestion  of  appalling  strength. 

The  tremendous  shoulders  were  four  feet  wide 
if  an  inch,  tapering  down  to  mighty  thewed  thighs. 
The  muscles  of  his  chest  stood  out  beneath  his 
tunic  of  red.  Around  his  forehead  shone  a  chaplet 
of  bright-blue  stones,  sparkling  among  the  thick 
curls  of  his  silver-ash  hair. 

Upon  his  face  pride  and  ambition  were  written 
large — and  power  still  larger.  All  the  mockery,  the 
malice,  the  hint  of  callous  indifference  that  I  had 
noted  in  the  other  dwarfish  men  were  there,  too — 
but  intensified  touched  with  the  satanic. 

The  woman  spoke  again. 

"Who  are  you  strangers,  and  how  came  you 
here?"  She  turned  to  Rador.  "Or  is  it  that  they 
do  not  understand  our  tongue?" 

"One  understands  and  speaks  it — but  very 
badly,  O  Yolara, "  answered  the  green  dwarf. 

148 


The  Justice  of  Lora  H9 

"Speak,  then,  that  one  of  you,"  she  commanded. 

But  it  was  Marakinoff  who  found  his  voice 
first,  and  I  marvelled  at  the  fluency,  so  much 
greater  than  mine,  with  which  he  spoke. 

"We  came  for  different  purposes.  I  to  seek 
knowledge  of  a  kind;  he" — pointing  to  me — "of 
another.  This  man" — he  looked  at  Olaf — "to 
find  a  wife  and  child." 

The  grey-blue  eyes  had  been  regarding  O'Keefe 
steadily  and  with  plainly  increasing  interest. 

"And  why  did  you  come?"  she  asked  him. 
"Nay — I  would  have  him  speak  for  himself,  if  he 
can,"  she  stilled  Marakinoff  peremptorily. 

When  Larry  spoke  it  was  haltingly,  in  the  tongue 
that  was  strange  to  him,  searching  for  the  proper 
words. 

"I  came  to  help  these  men — and  because  some 
thing  I  could  not  then  understand  called  me,  O 
lady  whose  eyes  are  like  forest  pools  at  dawn," 
he  answered;  and  even  in  the  unfamiliar  words 
there  was  a  touch  of  the  Irish  brogue,  and  little 
merry  lights  danced  in  the  eyes  Larry  had  so 
apostrophized. 

"I  could  find  fault  with  your  speech,  but  none 
with  its  burden,"  she  said.  "What  forest  pools 
are  I  know  not,  and  the  dawn  has  not  shone  upon 
the  people  of  Lora  these  many  sais  of  laya. l  But 
I  sense  what  you  mean ! " 

1  Later  I  was  to  find  that  Murian  reckoning  rested  upon  the 
extraordinary  increased  luminosity  of  the  cliffs  at  the  time  of  full 
moon  on  earth — this  action,  to  my  mind,  being  linked  either  with 


150  The  Moon  Pool 

The  eyes  deepened  to  blue  as  she  regarded  him. 
She  smiled. 

"Are  there  many  like  you  in  the  world  from 
which  you  come?"  she  asked  softly.  "Well,  we 
soon  shall " 

Lugur  interrupted  her  almost  rudely  and 
glowering. 

"Best  we  should  know  how  they  came  hence," 
he  growled. 

She  darted  a  quick  look  at  him,  and  again  the 
little  devils  danced  in  her  wondrous  eyes. 

the  effect  of  the  light  streaming  globes  upon  the  Moon  Pool,  whose 
source  was  in  the  shining  cliffs,  or  else  upon  some  mysterious 
affinity  of  their  radiant  element  with  the  flood  of  moonlight  on 
earth — the  latter,  most  probably,  because  even  when  the  moon 
must  have  been  clouded  above,  it  made  no  difference  in  the  pheno 
menon.  Thirteen  of  these  shinings  forth  constituted  a  laya,  one 
of  them  a  lot.  Ten  was  sa;  ten  times  ten  times  ten  a  said,  or 
thousand;  ten  times  a  thousand  was  a  sais.  A  sais  of  laya  was 
then  literally  ten  thousand  years.  What  we  would  call  an  hour 
was  by  them  called  a  va.  The  whole  time  system  was,  of  course,  a 
mingling  of  time  as  it  had  been  known  to  their  remote,  surface- 
dwelling  ancestors,  and  the  peculiar  determining  factors  in  the 
vast  cavern. 

Unquestionably  there  is  a  subtle  difference  between  time  as  we 
know  it  and  time  in  this  subterranean  land — its  progress  there 
being  slower.  This,  however,  is  only  in  accord  with  the  well- 
known  doctrine  of  relativity,  which  predicates  both  space  and 
time  as  necessary  inventions  of  the  human  mind  to  orient  itself 
to  the  conditions  under  which  it  finds  itself.  I  tried  often  to 
measure  this  difference,  but  could  never  do  so  to  my  entire  satis 
faction.  The  closest  I  can  come  to  it  is  to  say  that  an  hour  of  our 
time  is  the  equivalent  of  an  hour  and  five-eighths  in  Muria.  For 
further  information  upon  this  matter  of  relativity  the  reader  may 
consult  any  of  the  numerous  books  upon  the  subject. 

W.  T.  G- 


The  Justice  of  Lora  151 

"Yes,  that  is  true,"  she  said.  "How  came  you 
here?" 

Again  it  was  Marakinoff  who  answered — 
slowly,  considering  every  word. 

"In  the  world  above,"  he  said,  "there  are  ruins 
of  cities  not  built  by  any  of  those  who  now  dwell 
there.  To  us  these  places  called,  and  we  sought 
for  knowledge  of  the  wise  ones  who  made  them. 
We  found  a  passageway.  The  way  led  us  down 
ward  to  a  door  in  yonder  cliff,  and  through  it  we 
came  here." 

"Then  have  you  found  what  you  sought!" 
spoke  she.  "For  we  are  of  those  who  built  the 
cities.  But  this  gateway  in  the  rock — where  is  it?" 

"After  we  passed,  it  closed  upon  us;  nor  could 
we  after  find  trace  of  it,"  answered  Marakinoff. 

The  incredulity  that  had  shown  upon  the  face 
of  the  green  dwarf  fell  upon  theirs;  on  Lugur's  it 
was  clouded  with  furious  anger. 

He  turned  to  Rador. 

"I  could  find  no  opening,  lord,"  said  the  green 
dwarf  quickly. 

And  there  was  so  fierce  a  fire  in  the  eyes  of  Lugur 
as  he  swung  back  upon  us  that  O'Keefe's  hand 
slipped  stealthily  down  toward  his  pistol. 

"Best  it  is  to  speak  truth  to  Yolara,  priestess 
of  the  Shining  One,  and  to  Lugur,  the  Voice, "  he 
cried  menacingly. 

"It  is  the  truth,"  I  interposed.  "We  came 
down  the  passage.  At  its  end  was  a  carved  vine, 
a  vine  of  five  flowers" — the  fire  died  from  the  red 


152  The  Moon  Pool 

dwarf's  eyes,  and  I  could  have  sworn  to  a  swift 
pallor.  "I  rested  a  hand  upon  these  flowers,  and  a 
door  opened.  But  when  we  had  gone  through  it 
and  turned,  behind  us  was  nothing  but  unbroken 
cliff.  The  door  had  vanished. " 

I  had  taken  my  cue  from  Marakinoff.  If 
he  had  eliminated  the  episode  of  car  and  Moon 
Pool,  he  had  good  reason,  I  had  no  doubt;  and 
I  would  be  as  cautious.  And  deep  within  me 
something  cautioned  me  to  say  nothing  of  my 
quest;  to  stifle  all  thought  of  Throckmartin — 
something  that  warned,  peremptorily,  finally, 
as  though  it  were  a  message  from  Throckmartin 
himself ! 

"A  vine  with  five  flowers!"  exclaimed  the  red 
dwarf.  "Was  it  like  this,  say?" 

He  thrust  forward  a  long  arm.  Upon  the  thumb 
of  the  hand  was  an  immense  ring,  set  with  a  dull- 
blue  stone.  Graven  on  the  face  of  the  jewel  was 
the  symbol  of  the  rosy  walls  of  the  Moon  Chamber 
that  had  opened  to  us  their  two  portals.  But  cut 
over  the  vine  were  seven  circles,  one  about  each  of 
the  flowers  and  two  larger  ones  covering,  inter 
secting  them. 

"This  is  the  same, "  I  said;  "but  these  were  not 
there" — I  indicated  the  circles. 

The  woman  drew  a  deep  breath  and  looked  deep 
into  Lugur's  eyes. 

' '  The  sign  of  the  Silent  Ones ! "  he  half  whispered. 

It  was  the  woman  who  first  recovered  herself. 

"The  strangers  are  weary,  Lugur, "  she  said. 


The  Justice  of  Lora  153 

"When  they  are  rested  they  shall  show  where  the 
rocks  opened. " 

I  sensed  a  subtle  change  in  their  attitude  toward 
us;  a  new  intentness;  a  doubt  plainly  tinged  with 
apprehension.  What  was  it  they  feared?  Why 
had  the  symbol  of  the  vine  wrought  the  change? 
And  who  or  what  were  the  Silent  Ones. 

Yolara's  eyes  turned  to  Olaf,  hardened,  and 
grew  cold  grey.  Subconsciously  I  had  noticed 
that  from  the  first  the  Norseman  had  been  ab 
sorbed  in  his  regard  of  the  pair;  had,  indeed,  never 
taken  his  gaze  from  them;  had  noticed,  too,  the 
priestess  dart  swift  glances  toward  him. 

He  returned  her  scrutiny  fearlessly,  a  touch  of 
contempt  in  the  clear  eyes — like  a  child  watching  a 
snake  which  he  did  not  dread,  but  whose  danger 
he  well  knew. 

Under  that  look  Yolara  stirred  impatiently, 
sensing,  I  know,  its  meaning. 

"Why  do  you  look  at  me  so?"  she  cried. 

An  expression  of  bewilderment  passed  over 
Olaf's  face. 

"I  do  not  understand, "  he  said  in  English. 

I  caught  a  quickly  repressed  gleam  in  O'Keefe's 
eyes.  He  knew,  as  I  knew,  that  Olaf  must  have 
understood.  But  did  Marakinoff? 

Apparently  he  did  not.  But  why  was  Olaf 
feigning  ignorance? 

"This  man  is  a  sailor  from  what  we  call  the 
North,"  thus  Larry  haltingly.  "He  is  crazed,  I 
think.  He  tells  a  strange  tale — of  a  something  of 


154  The  Moon  Pool 

cold  fire  that  took  his  wife  and  babe.  We  found 
him  wandering  where  we  were.  And  because  he  is 
strong  we  brought  him  with  us.  That  is  all,  O 
lady  whose  voice  is  sweeter  than  the  honey  of  the 
wild  bees!" 

"A  shape  of  cold  fire?"  she  repeated. 

"A  shape  of  cold  fire  that  whirled  beneath  the 
moon,  with  the  sound  of  little  bells,"  answered 
Larry,  watching  her  intently. 

She  looked  at  Lugur  and  laughed. 

"Then  he,  too,  is  fortunate,"  she  said.  "For 
he  has  come  to  the  place  of  his  something  of  cold 
fire — and  tell  him  that  he  shall  join  his  wife  and 
child,  in  time;  that  /  promise  him." 

Upon  the  Norseman's  face  there  was  no  hint  of 
comprehension,  and  at  that  moment  I  formed  an 
entirely  new  opinion  of  Olaf's  intelligence;  for 
certainly  it  must  have  been  a  prodigious  effort  of 
the  will,  indeed,  that  enabled  him,  understanding, 
to  control  himself. 

"What  does  she  say?"  he  asked. 

Larry  repeated. 

"Good!"  said  Olaf.    "Good!" 

He  looked  at  Yolara  with  well-assumed  grati 
tude.  Lugur,  who  had  been  scanning  his  bulk, 
drew  close  He  felt  the  giant  muscles  which  Hul- 
dricksson  accommodatingly  flexed  for  him. 

"But  he  shall  meet  Valdor  and  Tahola  before  he 
sees  those  kin  of  his, "  he  laughed  mockingly. 
"And  if  he  bests  them — for  reward — his  wife  and 
babe!" 


The  Justice  of  Lora  155 

A  shudder,  quickly  repressed,  shook  the  seaman's 
frame.  The  woman  bent  her  supremely  beautiful 
head. 

"These  two,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  Russian 
and  to  me,  "seem  to  be  men  of  learning.  They 
may  be  useful.  As  for  this  man" — she  smiled  at 
Larry — "I  would  have  him  explain  to  me  some 
things."  She  hesitated.  "What  'hon-ey  of  'e 
wild  bees-s'  is."  Larry  had  spoken  the  words  in 
English,  and  she  was  trying  to  repeat  them.  "As 
for  this  man,  the  sailor,  do  as  you  please  with  him, 
Lugur;  always  remembering  that  I  have  given  my 
word  that  he  shall  join  that  wife  and  babe  of  his!" 
She  laughed  sweetly,  sinisterly.  "And  now — take 
them,  Rador — give  them  food  and  drink  and  let 
them  rest  till  we  shall  call  them  again. " 

She  stretched  out  a  hand  toward  O'Keefe.  The 
Irishman  bowed  low  over  it,  raised  it  softly  to  his 
lips.  There  was  a  vicious  hiss  from  Lugur;  but 
Yolara  regarded  Larry  with  eyes  now  all  tender 
blue. 

"You  please  me,  "  she  whispered. 

And  the  face  of  Lugur  grew  darker. 

We  turned  to  go.  The  rosy,  azure-shot  globe 
at  her  side  suddenly  dulled.  From  it  came  a  faint 
bell  sound  as  of  chimes  far  away.  She  bent  over 
it.  It  vibrated,  and  then  its  surface  ran  with  little 
waves  of  dull  colour ;  from  it  came  a  whispering  so 
low  that  I  could  not  distinguish  the  words — if 
words  they  were. 

She  spoke  to  the  red  dwarf. 


156  The  Moon  Pool 

"They  have  brought  the  three  who  blasphemed 
the  Shining  One, "  she  said  slowly.  "Now  it  is  in 
my  mind  to  show  these  strangers  the  justice  of 
Lora.  What  say  you,  Lugur?" 

The  red  dwarf  nodded,  his  eyes  sparkling  with  a 
malicious  anticipation. 

The  woman  spoke  again  to  the  globe.  "Bring 
them  here!" 

And  again  it  ran  swiftly  with  its  film  of  colours, 
darkened,  and  shone  rosy  once  more.  From  with 
out  there  came  the  rustle  of  many  feet  upon  the 
rugs.  Yolara  pressed  a  slender  hand  upon  the 
base  of  the  pedestal  of  the  globe  beside  her. 
Abruptly  the  light  faded  from  all,  and  on  the  same 
instant  the  four  walls  of  blackness  vanished,  re 
vealing  on  two  sides  the  lovely,  unfamiliar  garden 
through  the  guarding  rows  of  pillars ;  at  our  backs 
soft  draperies  hid  what  lay  beyond;  before  us, 
flanked  by  flowered  screens,  was  the  corridor 
through  which  we  had  entered,  crowded  now  by 
the  green  dwarfs  of  the  great  hall. 

The  dwarfs  advanced.  Each,  I  now  noted,  had 
the  same  clustering  black  hair  of  Rador.  They 
separated,  and  from  them  stepped  three  figures — 
a  youth  of  not  more  than  twenty,  short,  but  with 
the  great  shoulders  of  all  the  males  we  had  seen  of 
this  race;  a  girl  of  seventeen,  I  judged,  white-faced, 
a  head  taller  than  the  boy,  her  long,  black  hair  dis 
hevelled  ;  and  behind  these  two  a  stunted,  gnarled 
shape  whose  head  was  sunk  deep  between  the  enor 
mous  shoulders,  whose  white  beard  fell  like  that  of 


The  Justice  of  Lora  i57 

some  ancient  gnome  down  to  his  waist,  and  whose 
eyes  were  a  white  flame  of  hate.  The  girl  cast 
herself  weeping  at  the  feet  of  the  priestess;  the 
youth  regarded  her  curiously. 

"You  are  Songar  of  the  Lower  Waters?"  mur 
mured  Yolara  almost  caressingly.  "And  this  is 
your  daughter  and  her  lover?" 

The  gnome  nodded,  the  flame  in  his  eyes  leaping 
higher. 

"It  has  come  to  me  that  you  three  have  dared 
blaspheme  the  Shining  One,  its  priestess,  and  its 
Voice,"  went  on  Yolara  smoothly.  "Also  that 
you  have  called  out  to  the  three  Silent  Ones.  Is  it 
true?" 

"Your  spies  have  spoken — and  have  you  not 
already  judged  us?"  The  voice  of  the  old  dwarf 
was  bitter. 

A  flicker  shot  through  the  eyes  of  Yolara,  again 
cold  grey.  The  girl  reached  a  trembling  hand  out 
to  the  hem  of  the  priestess's  veils. 

"Tell  us  why  you  did  these  things,  Songar,  "  she 
said.  "Why  you  did  them,  knowing  full  well 
what  your — reward — would  be. " 

The  dwarf  stiffened ;  he  raised  his  withered  arms, 
and  his  eyes  blazed. 

"Because  evil  are  your  thoughts  and  evil  are 
your  deeds,"  he  cried.  "Yours  and  your  lover's, 
there" — he  levelled  a  finger  at  Lugur.  "Because 
of  the  Shining  One  you  have  made  evil,  too,  and 
the  greater  wickedness  you  contemplate — you  and 
he  with  the  Shining  One.  But  I  tell  you  that  your 


158  The  Moon  Pool 

measure  of  iniquity  is  full;  the  tale  of  your  sin 
near  ended!  Yea — the  Silent  Ones  have  been 
patient,  but  soon  they  will  speak."  He  pointed 
at  us.  "A  sign  are  they — a  warning — harlot!" 
He  spat  the  word. 

In  Yolara's  eyes,  grown  black,  the  devils  leaped 
unrestrained. 

"Is  it  even  so,  Songar?"  her  voice  caressed. 
"Now  ask  the  Silent  Ones  to  help  you!  They  sit 
afar — but  surely  they  will  hear  you. "  The  sweet 
voice  was  mocking.  "As  for  these  two,  they  shall 
pray  to  the  Shining  One  for  forgiveness — and 
surely  the  Shining  One  will  take  them  to  its  bosom ! 
As  for  you — you  have  lived  long  enough,  Songar ! 
Pray  to  the  Silent  Ones,  Songar,  and  pass  out  into 
the  nothingness — y  ou ! ' ' 

She  dipped  down  into  her  bosom  and  drew  forth 
something  that  resembled  a  small  cone  of  tarnished 
silver.  She  levelled  it,  a  covering  clicked  from  its 
base,  and  out  of  it  darted  a  slender  ray  of  intense 
green  light. 

It  struck  the  old  dwarf  squarely  over  the  heart, 
and  spread  swift  as  light  itself,  covering  him  with  a 
gleaming,  pale  film.  She  clenched  her  hand  upon 
the  cone,  and  the  ray  disappeared.  She  thrust  the 
cone  back  into  her  breast  and  leaned  forward  ex 
pectantly;  so  Lugur  and  so  the  other  dwarfs. 
From  the  girl  came  a  low  wail  of  anguish;  the  boy 
dropped  upon  his  knees,  covering  his  face. 

For  the  moment  the  white  beard  stood  rigid; 
then  the  robe  that  had  covered  him  seemed  to  melt 


The  Justice  of  Lora  159 

away,  revealing  all  the  knotted,  monstrous  body. 
And  in  that  body  a  vibration  began,  increasing  to 
incredible  rapidity.  It  wavered  before  us  like  a 
reflection  in  a  still  pond  stirred  by  a  sudden  wind. 
It  grew  and  grew — to  a  rhythm  whose  rapidity 
was  intolerable  to  watch  and  that  still  chained  the 
eyes. 

The  figure  grew  indistinct,  misty.  Tiny  sparks 
in  infinite  numbers  leaped  from  it — like,  I  thought, 
the  radiant  shower  of  particles  hurled  out  by 
radium  when  seen  under  the  microscope.  Mistier 
still  it  grew — there  trembled  before  us  for  a  moment 
a  faintly  luminous  shadow  which  held,  here  and 
there,  tiny  sparkling  atoms  like  those  that  pulsed  in 
the  light  about  us !  The  glowing  shadow  vanished, 
the  sparkling  atoms  were  still  for  a  moment — and 
shot  away,  joining  those  dancing  others. 

Where  the  gnomelike  form  had  been  but  a  few 
seconds  before — there  was  nothing ! 

O'Keefe  drew  a  long  breath,  and  I  was  sensible 
of  a  prickling  along  my  scalp. 

Yolara  leaned  toward  us. 

"You  have  seen,"  she  said.  Her  eyes  lingered 
tigerishly  upon  Olaf's  pallid  face.  "Heed!"  she 
whispered.  She  turned  to  the  men  in  green,  who 
were  laughing  softly  among  themselves. 

"Take  these  two,  and  go!"  she  commanded. 

' '  The  justice  of  Lora, ' '  said  the  red  dwarf.  ' '  The 
justice  of  Lora  and  the  Shining  One  under  Than- 
aroa!" 

Upon  the  utterance  of  the  last  word  I  saw  Mar- 


160  The  Moon  Pool 

akinoff  start  violently.  The  hand  at  his  side 
made  a  swift,  surreptitious  gesture,  so  fleeting  that 
I  hardly  caught  it.  The  red  dwarf  stared  at  the 
Russian,  and  there  was  amazement  upon  his  face. 

Swiftly  as  Marakinoff,  he  returned  it. 

"Yolara, "  the  red  dwarf  spoke,  "it  would  please 
me  to  take  this  man  of  wisdom  to  my  own  place 
for  a  time.  The  giant  I  would  have,  too. " 

The  woman  awoke  from  her  brooding;  nodded. 

"As  you  will,  Lugur, "  she  said. 

And  as,  shaken  to  the  core,  we  passed  out  into 
the  garden  into  the  full  throbbing  of  the  light,  I 
wondered  if  all  the  tiny  sparkling  diamond  points 
that  shook  about  us  had  once  been  men  like  Songar 
of  the  Lower  Waters — and  felt  my  very  soul  grow 
sick! 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  ANGRY,  WHISPERING  GLOBE 

OUR  way  led  along  a  winding  path  between 
banked  masses  of  softly  radiant  blooms,  groups  of 
feathery  ferns  whose  plumes  were  starred  with 
fragrant  white  and  blue  flowerets,  slender  creepers 
swinging  from  the  branches  of  the  strangely 
trunked  trees,  bearing  along  their  threads  orchid- 
like  blossoms  both  delicately  frail  and  gorgeously 
flamboyant. 

The  path  we  trod  was  an  exquisite  mosaic — 
pastel  greens  and  pinks  upon  a  soft  grey  base, 
garlands  of  nimbused  forms  like  the  flaming  rose 
of  the  Rosicrucians  held  in  the  mouths  of  the  fly 
ing  serpents.  A  smaller  pavilion  arose  before  us, 
single-storied,  front  wide  open. 

Upon  its  threshold  Rador  paused,  bowed  deeply, 
and  motioned  us  within.  The  chamber  we  entered 
was  large,  closed  on  two  sides  by  screens  of  grey; 
at  the  back  gay,  concealing  curtains.  The  low 
table  of  blue  stone,  dressed  with  fine  white  cloths, 
stretched  at  one  side  flanked  by  the  cushioned 
divans. 

At  the  left  was  a  high  tripod  bearing  one  of  the 

it  161 


162  The  Moon  Pool 

rosy  globes  we  had  seen  in  the  house  of  Yolara; 
at  the  head  of  the  table  a  smaller  globe  similar  to 
the  whispering  one.  Rador  pressed  upon  its  base, 
and  two  other  screens  slid  into  place  across  the 
entrance,  shutting  in  the  room. 

He  clapped  his  hands;  the  curtains  parted,  and 
two  girls  came  through  them.  Tall  and  willow 
lithe,  their  bluish-black  hair  falling  in  ringlets  just 
below  their  white  shoulders,  their  clear  eyes  of 
forget-me-not  blue,  and  skins  of  extraordinary 
fineness  and  purity — they  were  singularly  attrac 
tive.  Each  was  clad  in  an  extremely  scanty  bodice 
of  silken  blue,  girdled  above  a  kirtle  that  came 
barely  to  their  very  pretty  knees. 

"Food  and  drink,"  ordered  Rador. 

They  dropped  back  through  the  curtains. 

"Do  you  like  them?"  he  asked  us. 

"Some  chickens!"  said  Larry.  "They  delight 
the  heart, "  he  translated  for  Rador. 

The  green  dwarf's  next  remark  made  me  gasp. 

"They  are  yours, "  he  said. 

Before  I  could  question  him  further  upon  this 
extraordinary  statement  the  pair  re-entered,  bear 
ing  a  great  platter  on  which  were  small  loaves, 
strange  fruits,  and  three  immense  flagons  of  rock 
crystal — two  filled  with  a  slightly  sparkling  yellow 
liquid  and  the  third  with  a  purplish  drink.  I 
became  acutely  sensible  that  it  had  been  hours 
since  I  had  either  eaten  or  drank.  The  yellow 
flagons  were  set  before  Larry  and  me,  the  purple 
at  Rador's  hand. 


The  Angry,  Whispering  Globe  163 

The  girls,  at  his  signal,  again  withdrew.  I 
raised  my  glass  to  my  lips  and  took  a  deep  draft. 
The  taste  was  unfamiliar  but  delightful. 

Almost  at  once  my  fatigue  disappeared.  I 
realized  a  clarity  of  mind,  an  interesting  exhilara 
tion  and  sense  of  irresponsibility,  of  freedom  from 
care,  that  were  oddly  enjoyable.  Larry  became 
immediately  his  old  gay  self. 

The  green  dwarf  regarded  us  whimsically,  sip 
ping  from  his  great  flagon  of  rock  crystal. 

"Much  do  I  desire  to  know  of  that  world  you 
came  from, "  he  said  at  last — "through  the  rocks," 
he  added,  slyly. 

"And  much  do  we  desire  to  know  of  this  world 
of  yours,  O  Rador, "  I  answered. 

Should  I  ask  him  of  the  Dweller ;  seek  from  him  a 
clue  to  Throckmartin?  Again,  clearly  as  a  spoken 
command,  came  the  warning  to  forbear,  to  wait. 
And  once  more  I  obeyed. 

"Let  us  learn,  then,  from  each  other."  The 
dwarf  was  laughing.  ' '  And  first — are  all  above  like 
you — drawn  out" — he  made  an  expressive  ges 
ture — "and  are  there  many  of  you?" 

"There  are — "  I  hesitated,  and  at  last  spoke  the 
Polynesian  that  means  tens  upon  tens  multiplied 
indefinitely — "there  are  as  many  as  the  drops  of 
water  in  the  lake  we  saw  from  the  ledge  where  you 
found  us, "  I  continued ; ' '  many  as  the  leaves  on  the 
trees  without.  And  they  are  all  like  us — varyingly. " 

He  considered  skeptically,  I  could  see,  my  re 
mark  upon  our  numbers. 


164  The  Moon  Pool 

"In  Muria, "  he  said  at  last,  "the  men  are  like 
me  or  like  Lugur.  Our  women  are  as  you  see  them 
— like  Yolara  or  those  two  who  served  you. "  He 
hesitated.  "And  there  is  a  third;  but  only  one." 

Larry  leaned  forward  eagerly. 

"Brown-haired  with  glints  of  ruddy  bronze, 
golden-eyed,  and  lovely  as  a  dream,  with  long, 
slender,  beautiful  hands?"  he  cried. 

"Where  saw  you  her?"  interrupted  the  dwarf, 
starting  to  his  feet. 

"Saw  her?"  Larry  recovered  himself.  "Nay, 
Rador,  perhaps  I  only  dreamed  that  there  was 
such  a  woman." 

"See  to  it,  then,  that  you  tell  not  your  dream  to 
Yolara, "  said  the  dwarf  grimly.  "For  her  I  meant 
and  her  you  have  pictured  is  Lakla,  the  hand 
maiden  to  the  Silent  Ones,  and  neither  Yolara 
nor  Lugur,  nay,  nor  the  Shining  One,  love  her 
overmuch,  stranger." 

' '  Does  she  dwell  here  ? ' '    Larry's  face  was  alight. 

The  dwarf  hesitated,  glanced  about  him  anx 
iously. 

"Nay, "  he  answered,  "ask  me  no  more  of  her." 
He  was  silent  for  a  space.  "And  what  do  you  who 
are  as  leaves  or  drops  of  water  do  in  that  world 
of  yours?"  he  said,  plainly  bent  on  turning  the 
subject. 

"Keep  off  the  golden-eyed  girl,  Larry,"  I  inter 
jected.  "Wait  till  we  find  out  why  she's  tabu" 

"Love  and  battle,  strive  and  accomplish  and 
die;  or  fail  and  die, "  answered  Larry — to  Rador — • 


The  Angry,  Whispering  Globe  165 

giving  me  a  quick  nod  of  acquiescence  to  my  warn 
ing  in  English. 

"In  that  at  least  your  world  and  mine  differ 
little, "  said  the  dwarf. 

"How  great  is  this  world  of  yours,  Rador?"  I 
spoke. 

He  considered  me  gravely. 

"How  great  indeed  I  do  not  know,"  he  said 
frankly  at  last.  "The  land  where  we  dwell  with 
the  Shining  One  stretches  along  the  white  waters 
for — "  He  used  a  phrase  of  which  I  could  make 
nothing.  "Beyond  this  city  of  the  Shining  One 
and  on  the  hither  shores  of  the  white  waters  dwell 
the  mayia  ladala — the  common  ones."  He  took 
a  deep  draft  from  his  flagon.  "There  are,  first, 
the  fair-haired  ones,  the  children  of  the  ancient 
rulers,"  he  continued.  "There  are,  second,  we 
the  soldiers;  and  last,  the  mayia  ladala,  who  dig 
and  till  and  weave  and  toil  and  give  our  rulers  and 
us  their  daughters,  and  dance  with  the  Shining 
One!"  he  added. 

"Who  rules?"    I  asked. 

"The  fair-haired,  under  the  Council  of  Nine, 
who  are  under  Yolara,  the  Priestess  and  Lugur, 
the  Voice,  "  he  answered,  "who  are  in  turn  beneath 
the  Shining  One!"  There  was  a  ring  of  bitter 
satire  in  the  last. 

"And  those  three  who  were  judged?" — this 
from  Larry. 

"They  were  of  the  mayia  ladala,"  he  replied, 
"like  those  two  I  gave  you.  But  they  grow  rest- 


i66  The  Moon  Pool 

less.  They  do  not  like  to  dance  with  the  Shining 
One — the  blasphemers ! "  He  raised  his  voice  in  a 
sudden  great  shout  of  mocking  laughter. 

In  his  words  I  caught  a  fleeting  picture  of  the 
race — an  ancient,  luxurious,  close-bred  oligarchy 
clustered  about  some  mysterious  deity;  a  soldier 
class  that  supported  them ;  and  underneath  all  the 
toiling,  oppressed  hordes. 

"And  is  that  all?"  asked  Larry. 

' '  No, ' '  he  answered.  '  'There  is  the  Sea  of  Crim 
son  where " 

Without  warning  the  globe  beside  us  sent  out 
a  vicious  note,  Rador  turned  toward  it,  his  face 
paling.  Its  surface  crawled  with  whisperings — 
angry,  peremptory! 

"I  hear!"  he  croaked,  gripping  the  table.  "I 
obey!" 

He  turned  to  us  a  face  devoid  for  once  of  its 
malice. 

"Ask  me  no  more  questions,  strangers, "  he  said. 
"And  now,  if  you  are  done,  I  will  show  you  where 
you  may  sleep  and  bathe.' ' 

He  arose  abruptly.  We  followed  him  through 
the  hangings,  passed  through  a  corridor  and  into 
another  smaller  chamber,  roofless,  the  sides  walled 
with  screens  of  dark  grey.  Two  cushioned  couches 
were  there  and  a  curtained  door  leading  into  an 
open,  outer  enclosure  in  which  a  fountain  played 
within  a  wide  pool. 

"Your  bath,"  said  Rador.  He  dropped  the 
curtain  and  came  back  into  the  room.  He  touched 


The  Angry,  Whispering  Globe  167 

a  carved  flower  at  one  side.  There  was  a  tiny 
sighing  from  overhead  and  instantly  across  the 
top  spread  a  veil  of  blackness,  impenetrable  to 
light  but  certainly  not  to  air,  for  through  it  pulsed 
little  breaths  of  the  garden  fragrances.  The  room 
filled  with  a  cool  twilight,  refreshing,  sleep-induc 
ing.  The  green  dwarf  pointed  to  the  couches. 

"Sleep!"  he  said.  "Sleep  and  fear  nothing. 
My  men  are  on  guard  outside."  He  came  closer 
to  us,  the  old  mocking  gaiety  sparkling  in  his  eyes. 

"But  I  spoke  too  quickly,"  he  whispered. 
"Whether  it  is  because  the  Afyo  Maie  fears  their 
tongues — or — ' '  he  laughed  at  Larry.  ' '  The  maids 
are  not  yours ! ' '  Still  laughing  he  vanished  through 
the  curtains  of  the  room  of  the  fountain  before  I 
could  ask  him  the  meaning  of  his  curious  gift,  its 
withdrawal,  and  his  most  enigmatic  closing  re 
marks. 

"Back  in  the  great  old  days  of  Ireland,"  thus 
Larry  breaking  into  my  thoughts  raptly,  the 
brogue  thick,  "there  was  Cairill  mac  Cairill — 
Cairill  Swiftspear.  An'  Cairill  wronged  Keevan  of 
Emhain  Abhlach,  of  the  blood  of  Angus  of  the 
great  people  when  he  was  sleeping  in  the  likeness 
of  a  pale  reed.  Then  Keevan  put  this  penance  on 
Cairill — that  for  a  year  Cairill  should  wear  his 
body  in  Emhain  Abhlach  which  is  the  Land  of 
Faery  and  for  that  year  Keevan  should  wear  the 
body  of  Cairill.  And  it  was  done. 

"In  that  year  Cairill  met  Emar  of  the  Birds 
that  are  one  white,  one  red,  and  one  black — and 


i68  The  Moon  Pool 

they  loved,  and  from  that  love  sprang  Ailill  their 
son.  And  when  Ailill  was  born  he  took  a  reed 
flute  and  first  he  played  slumber  on  Cairill,  and 
then  he  played  old  age  so  that  Cairill  grew  white 
and  withered;  then  Ailill  played  again  and  Cairill 
became  a  shadow — then  a  shadow  of  a  shadow — 
then  a  breath;  and  the  breath  went  out  upon  the 
wind!"  He  shivered.  "Like  the  old  gnome,"  he 
whispered,  "that  they  called  Songar  of  the  Lower 
Waters!" 

He  shook  his  head  as  though  he  cast  a  dream 
from  him.  Then,  all  alert 

"But  that  was  in  Ireland  ages  agone.  And 
there's  nothing  like  that  here,  Doc! "  He  laughed. 
"It  doesn't  scare  me  one  little  bit,  old  boy.  The 
pretty  devil  lady's  got  the  wrong  slant.  When 
you've  had  a  pal  standing  beside  you  one  moment — 
full  of  life,  and  joy,  and  power,  and  potentialities, 
telling  what  he's  going  to  do  to  make  the  world 
hum  when  he  gets  through  the  slaughter,  just 
running  over  with  zip  and  pep  of  life,  Doc — and 
the  next  instant,  right  in  the  middle  of  a  laugh — 
a  piece  of  damned  shell  takes  off  half  his  head  and 
with  it  joy  and  power  and  all  the  rest  of  it" — his 
face  twitched — "well,  old  man,  in  the  face  of  that 
mystery  a  disappearing  act  such  as  the  devil  lady 
treated  us  to  doesn't  make  much  of  a  dent.  Not 
on  me.  But  by  the  brogans  of  Brian  Boru — if  we 
could  have  had  some  of  that  stuff  to  turn  on  dur 
ing  the  war — oh,  boy!" 

He  was  silent,  evidently  contemplating  the  idea 


The  Angry,  Whispering  Globe  169 

with  vast  pleasure.  And  as  for  me,  at  that  moment 
my  last  doubt  of  Larry  O'Keefe  vanished,  I  saw 
that  he  did  believe,  really  believed,  in  his  banshees, 
his  leprechawns  and  all  the  old  dreams  of  the  Gael 
• — but  only  within  the  limits  of  Ireland. 

In  one  drawer  of  his  mind  was  packed  all  his 
superstition,  his  mysticism,  and  what  of  weakness 
it  might  carry.  But  face  him  with  any  peril  or 
problem  and  the  drawer  closed  instantaneously 
leaving  a  mind  that  was  utterly  fearless,  incredu 
lous,  and  ingenious;  swept  clean  of  all  cobwebs  by 
as  fine  a  skeptic  broom  as  ever  brushed  a  brain. 

"Some  stuff!"  Deepest  admiration  was  in  his 
voice.  "If  we'd  only  had  it  when  the  war  was 
on — imagine  half  a  dozen  of  us  scooting  over  the 
enemy  batteries  and  the  gunners  underneath  all  at 
once  beginning  to  shake  themselves  to  pieces! 
Wow!"  His  tone  was  rapturous. 

"It's  easy  enough  to  explain,  Larry,"  I  said. 
"The  effect,  that  is — for  what  the  green  ray  is 
made  of  I  don't  know,  of  course.  But  what 
it  does,  clearly,  is  stimulate  atomic  vibration  to 
such  a  pitch  that  the  cohesion  between  the  par 
ticles  of  matter  is  broken  and  the  body  flies  to 
bits — just  as  a  fly-wheel  does  when  its  speed  gets 
so  great  that  the  particles  of  which  it  is  made  can't 
hold  together." 

"Shake  themselves  to  pieces  is  right,  then!" 
he  exclaimed. 

"Absolutely  right, "  I  nodded.  "Everything  in 
Nature  vibrates.  And  all  matter — whether  man 


170  The  Moon  Pool 

or  beast  or  stone  or  metal  or  vegetable — is  made 
up  of  vibrating  molecules,  which  are  made  up  of 
vibrating  atoms  which  are  made  up  of  truly  in 
finitely  small  particles  of  electricity  called  elec 
trons,  and  electrons,  the  base  of  all  matter,  are 
themselves  perhaps  only  a  vibration  of  the  myster 
ious  ether. 

"If  a  magnifying  glass  of  sufficient  size  and 
strength  could  be  placed  over  us  we  could  see  our 
selves  as  sieves — our  space  lattice,  as  it  is  called. 
And  all  that  is  necessary  to  break  down  the  lattice, 
to  shake  us  into  nothingness,  is  some  agent  that 
will  set  our  atoms  vibrating  at  such  a  rate  that  at 
last  they  escape  the  unseen  cords  and  fly  off. 

"The  green  ray  of  Yolara  is  such  an  agent.  It 
set  up  in  the  dwarf  that  incredibly  rapid  rhythm 
that  you  saw  and — shook  him  not  to  atoms — but  to 
electrons!" 

"They  had  a  gun  on  the  West  Front — a  seventy- 
five, "  said  O'Keefe,  "that  broke  the  eardrums  of 
everybody  who  fired  it,  no  matter  what  protection 
they  used.  It  looked  like  all  the  other  seventy- 
fives — but  there  was  something  about  its  sound 
that  did  it.  They  had  to  recast  it. " 

"It's  practically  the  same  thing,"  I  replied. 
"By  some  freak  its  vibratory  qualities  had  that 
effect.  The  deep  whistle  of  the  sunken  Lusitania 
would,  for  instance,  make  the  Singer  Building 
shake  to  its  foundations;  while  the  Olympic  did 
not  affect  the  Singer  at  all  but  made  the  Wool- 
worth  shiver  all  through.  In  each  case  they 


The  Angry,  Whispering  Globe  171 

stimulated  the  atomic  vibration  of  the  particular 
building " 

I  paused,  aware  all  at  once  of  an  intense  drowsi 
ness.  O'Keefe,  yawning,  reached  down  to  un 
fasten  his  puttees. 

"Lord,  I'm  sleepy!"  he  exclaimed.  "Can't 
understand  it — what  you  say — most — interesting 
— Lord!"  he  yawned  again;  straightened.  "What 
made  Reddy  take  such  a  shine  to  the  Russian?" 
he  asked. 

"Thanaroa,"  I  answered,  righting  to  keep  my 
eyes  open. 

"What?" 

"When  Lugur  spoke  that  name  I  saw  Marakin- 
off  signal  him.  Thanaroa  is,  I  suspect,  the  original 
form  of  the  name  of  Tangaroa,  the  greatest 
god  of  the  Polynesians.  There's  a  secret  cult  to 
him  in  the  islands.  Marakinoff  may  belong  to 
it — he  knows  it  any  way.  Lugur  recognized  the 
signal  and  despite  his  surprise  answered  it." 

"So  he  gave  him  the  high  sign,  eh?"  mused 
Larry.  "How  could  they  both  know  it?" 

"The  cult  is  a  very  ancient  one.  Undoubtedly 
it  had  its  origin  in  the  dim  beginnings  before  these 
people  migrated  here,"  I  replied.  "It's  a  link — 
one — of  the  few  links  between  up  there  and  the 
lost  past " 

"Trouble  then,"  mumbled  Larry.  "Hell  brew 
ing!  I  smell  it —  Say,  Doc,  is  this  sleepiness  na 
tural?  Wonder  where  my — gas  mask — is — "  he 
added,  half  incoherently. 


1 72  The  Moon  Pool 

But  I  myself  was  struggling  desperately  against 
the  drugged  slumber  pressing  down  upon  me. 

"Lakla!"  I  heard  O'Keefe  murmur.  "Lakla 
of  the  golden  eyes — no  Eilidh — the  Fair!"  He 
made  an  immense  effort,  half  raised  himself, 
grinned  faintly. 

"Thought  this  was  paradise  when  I  first  saw  it, 
Doc,"  he  sighed.  "But  I  know  now,  if  it  is,  No- 
Man's  Land  was  the  greatest  place  on  earth  for  a 
honeymoon.  They — they've  got  us,  Doc — " 
He  sank  back.  "Good  luck,  old  boy,  wherever 
you're  going. "  His  hand  waved  feebly.  "Glad — 
knew — you.  Hope — see — you — 'gain ' ' 

His  voice  trailed  into  silence.  Fighting,  fighting 
with  every  fibre  of  brain  and  nerve  against  the 
sleep,  I  felt  myself  being  steadily  overcome.  Yet 
before  oblivion  rushed  down  upon  me  I  seemed  to 
see  upon  the  grey-screened  wall  nearest  the  Irish 
man  an  oval  of  rosy  light  begin  to  glow;  watched, 
as  my  falling  lids  inexorably  fell,  a  flame-tipped 
shadow  waver  on  it ;  thicken ;  condense — and  there 
looking  down  upon  Larry,  her  eyes  great  golden 
stars  in  which  intensest  curiosity  and  shy  tender 
ness  struggled,  sweet  mouth  half  smiling,  was  the 
girl  of  the  Moon  Pool's  Chamber,  the  girl  whom 
the  green  dwarf  had  named — Lakla;  the  vision 
Larry  had  invoked  before  that  sleep  which  I  could 
no  longer  deny  had  claimed  him 

Closer  she  came — closer — the  eyes  were  over  us. 

Then  oblivion  indeed! 


CHAPTER  XVI 

YOLARA   OF  MURIA   VS.   THE   O'KEEFE 

I  AWAKENED  with  all  the  familiar,  homely  sensa 
tion  of  a  shade  having  been  pulled  up  in  a  dark 
ened  room.  I  thrilled  with  a  wonderful  sense  of 
deep  rest  and  restored  resiliency.  The  ebon 
shadow  had  vanished  from  above  and  down  into 
the  room  was  pouring  the  silvery  light.  From  the 
fountain  pool  came  a  mighty  splashing  and  shouts 
of  laughter.  I  jumped  and  drew  the  curtain. 
O'Keefe  and  Rador  were  swimming  a  wild  race; 
the  dwarf  like  an  otter,  outdistancing  and  playing 
around  the  Irishman  at  will. 

Had  that  overpowering  sleep — and  now  I  con 
fess  that  my  struggle  against  it  had  been  largely 
inspired  by  fear  that  it  was  the  abnormal  slumber 
which  Throckmartin  had  described  as  having 
heralded  the  approach  of  the  Dweller  before  it  had 
carried  away  Thora  and  Stanton — had  that  sleep 
been  after  all  nothing  but  natural  reaction  of  tired 
nerves  and  brains? 

And  that  last  vision  of  the  golden-eyed  girl 
bending  over  Larry?  Had  that  also  been  a  delu 
sion  of  an  overstressed  mind  ?  Well,  it  might  have 


174  The  Moon  Pool 

been,  I  could  not  tell.  At  any  rate,  I  decided,  I 
would  speak  about  it  to  O'Keefe  once  we  were 
alone  again — and  then  giving  myself  up  to  the 
urge  of  buoyant  well-being  I  shouted  like  a  boy, 
stripped  and  joined  the  two  in  the  pool.  The  water 
was  warm  and  I  felt  the  unwonted  tingling  of  life 
in  every  vein  increase;  something  from  it  seemed 
to  pulse  through  the  skin,  carrying  a  clean  vigor 
ous  vitality  that  toned  every  fibre.  Tiring  at  last, 
we  swam  to  the  edge  and  drew  ourselves  out.  The 
green  dwarf  quickly  clothed  himself  and  Larry 
rather  carefully  donned  his  uniform. 

"The  Afyo  Male  has  summoned  us,  Doc,"  he 
said.  "We're  to — well — I  suppose  you'd  call  it 
breakfast  with  her.  After  that,  Rador  tells  me, 
we're  to  have  a  session  with  the  Council  of  Nine. 
I  suppose  Yolara  is  as  curious  as  any  lady  of — the 
upper  world,  as  you  might  put  it — and  just  natur 
ally  can't  wait, "  he  added. 

He  gave  himself  a  last  shake,  patted  the  auto 
matic  hidden  under  his  left  arm,  whistled  cheer 
fully. 

"After  you,  my  dear  Alphonse, "  he  said  to 
Rador,  with  a  low  bow.  The  dwarf  laughed,  bent 
in  an  absurd  imitation  of  Larry's  mocking  cour 
tesy  and  started  ahead  of  us  to  the  house  of  the 
priestess.  When  he  had  gone  a  little  way  on  the 
orchid-walled  path  I  whispered  to  O'Keefe: 

"Larry,  when  you  were  falling  off  to  sleep — 
did  you  think  you  saw  anything?" 

"See  anything!"  he  grinned.     "Doc,  sleep  hit 


Yolara  of  Muria  vs.  the  O'Keefe    175 

me  like  a  Hun  shell.  I  thought  they  were  pulling 
the  gas  on  us.  I — I  had  some  intention  of  bidding 
you  tender  farewells,"  he  continued,  half  sheep 
ishly.  ' '  I  think  I  did  start  'em,  didn't  I  ? " 

I  nodded. 

' '  But  wait  a  minute — ' '  he  hesitated.  ' '  I  had  a 
queer  sort  of  dream " 

"What  was  it?"  I  asked,  eagerly. 

"Well,  "  he  answered,  slowly,  "I  suppose  it  was 
because  I'd  been  thinking  of — Golden  Eyes.  Any 
way,  I  thought  she  came  through  the  wall  and 
leaned  over  me — yes,  and  put  one  of  those  long 
white  hands  of  hers  on  my  head — I  couldn't  raise 
my  lids — but  in  some  queer  way  I  could  see  her. 
Then  it  got  real  dreamish.  Why  do  you  ask ! ' ' 

Rador  turned  back  toward  us. 

"Later, "  I  answered.  "Not  now.  When  we're 
alone." 

But  through  me  went  a  little  glow  of  reassurance. 
Whatever  the  maze  through  which  we  were  mov 
ing;  whatever  of  menacing  evil  lurking  there — 
the  Golden  Girl  was  clearly  watching  over  us; 
Watching  with  whatever  unknown  powers  she 
could  muster. 

We  passed  the  pillared  entrance;  went  through 
a  long  bowered  corridor  and  stopped  before  a  door 
that  seemed  to  be  sliced  from  a  monolith  of  pale 
jade — high,  narrow,  set  in  a  wall  of  opal. 

Rador  stamped  twice  and  the  same  supernally 
sweet,  silver  bell  tones  of — yesterday,  I  must  call 
it,  although  in  that  place  of  eternal  day  the  term 


1 76  The  Moon  Pool 

is  meaningless — bade  us  enter.  The  door  slipped 
aside.  The  chamber  was  small,  the  opal  walls 
screening  it  on  three  sides,  the  black  opacity  cover 
ing  it,  the  fourth  side  opening  out  into  a  delicious 
little  walled  garden — a  mass  of  the  fragrant,  lumin 
ous  blooms  and  delicately  colored  fruit.  Facing 
it  was  a  small  table  of  reddish  wood  and  from  the 
omnipresent  cushions  heaped  around  it  arose  to 
greet  us — Yolara. 

Larry  drew  in  his  breath  with  an  involuntary 
gasp  of  admiration  and  bowed  low.  My  own  ad 
miration  was  as  frank — and  the  priestess  was  well 
pleased  with  our  homage. 

She  was  swathed  in  the  filmy,  half-revelant  webs, 
now  of  palest  blue.  The  corn-silk  hair  was  caught 
within  a  wide-meshed  golden  net  in  which  sparkled 
tiny  brilliants,  like  blended  sapphires  and  dia 
monds.  Her  own  azure  eyes  sparkled  as  brightly 
as  they,  and  I  noted  again  in  their  clear  depths  the 
half -eager  approval  as  they  rested  upon  O'Keefe's 
lithe,  well-knit  figure  and  his  keen,  clean-cut  face. 
The  high-arched,  slender  feet  rested  upon  soft 
sandals  whose  gauzy  withes  laced  the  exquisitely 
formed  leg  to  just  below  the  dimpled  knee. 

"Some  giddy  wonder!"  exclaimed  Larry,  look 
ing  at  me  and  placing  a  hand  over  his  heart.  ' '  Put 
her  on  a  New  York  roof  and  she'd  empty  Broad 
way.  Take  the  cue  from  me,  Doc." 

He  turned  to  Yolara,  whose  face  was  somewhat 
puzzled. 

"I  said,  O  lady  whose  shining  hair  is  a  web  for 


Yolara  of  Muria  vs.  the  O'Keefe    177 

hearts,  that  in  our  world  your  beauty  would  dazzle 
the  sight  of  men  as  would  a  little  woman  sun!"  he 
said,  in  the  florid  imagery  to  which  the  tongue 
lends  itself  so  well. 

A  flush  stole  up  through  the  translucent  skin. 
The  blue  eyes  softened  and  she  waved  us  toward 
the  cushions.  Black-haired  maids  stole  in,  placing 
before  us  the  fruits,  the  little  loaves  and  a  steam 
ing  drink  somewhat  the  colour  and  odor  of  chocolate. 
I  was  conscious  of  outrageous  hunger. 

"What  are  you  named,  strangers?"  she  asked. 

"This  man  is  named  Goodwin,"  said  O'Keefe. 
"As  for  me,  call  me  Larry. " 

"Nothing  like  getting  acquainted  quick,"  he 
said  to  me — but  kept  his  eyes  upon  Yolara  as 
though  he  were  voicing  another  honeyed  phrase. 
And  so  she  took  it,  for :  ' '  You  must  teach  me  your 
tongue, "  she  murmured. 

"Then  shall  I  have  two  words  where  now  I  have 
one  to  tell  you  of  your  loveliness,"  he  answered. 

"And  also  that'll  take  time,"  he  spoke  to  me. 
"Essential  occupation  out  of  which  we  can't  be 
drafted  to  make  these  fun-loving  folk  any  Roman 
holiday.  Get  me!" 

"Larree,"  mused  Yolara.  "I  like  the  sound. 
It  is  sweet — "  and  indeed  it  was  as  she  spoke  it 

"And  what  is  your  land  named,  Larree?"  she 
continued.  "And  Goodwin's?"  She  caught  the 
sound  perfectly. 

' '  My  land,  O  lady  of  loveliness,  is  two — Ireland 
and  America;  his  but  one — America." 


The  Moon  Pool 

She  repeated  the  two  names — slowly,  over  and 
over.  We  seized  the  opportunity  to  attack  the 
food ;  halting  half  guiltily  as  she  spoke  again. 

"Oh,  but  you  are  hungry!"  she  cried.  "Eat 
then."  She  leaned  her  chin  upon  her  hands  and 
regarded  us,  whole  fountains  of  questions  brim 
ming  up  in  her  eyes. 

"How  is  it,  Larree,  that  you  have  two  countries 
and  Goodwin  but  one?"  she  asked,  at  last  unable 
to  keep  silent  longer. 

"I  was  born  in  Ireland;  he  in  America.  But  I 
have  dwelt  long  in  his  land  and  my  heart  loves 
each,"  he  said. 

She  nodded,  understandingly. 

"Are  all  the  men  of  Ireland  like  you,  Larree? 
As  all  the  men  here  are  like  Lugur  or  Rador?  I 
like  to  look  at  you, "  she  went  on,  with  naive  frank 
ness.  "I  am  tired  of  men  like  Lugur  and  Rador. 
But  they  are  strong,"  she  added,  swiftly.  "Lu 
gur  can  hold  up  ten  in  his  two  arms  and  raise  six 
with  but  one  hand. " 

We  could  not  understand  her  numerals  and  she 
raised  white  fingers  to  illustrate. 

"That  is  little,  O  lady,  to  the  men  of  Ireland," 
replied  O'Keefe.  "Lo,  I  have  seen  one  of  my  race 
hold  up  ten  times  ten  of  our — what  call  you  that 
swift  thing  in  which  Rador  brought  us  here?" 

"Corial,"  said  she. 

"Hold  up  ten  times  twenty  of  our  corials  with 
but  two  fingers — and  these  corials  of  ours " 

"Coria, "  said  she. 


Yolara  of  Muria  vs.  the  O'Keefe    179 

"And  these  coria  of  ours  are  each  greater  in 
weight  than  ten  of  yours.  Yes,  and  I  have  seen 
another  with  but  one  blow  of  his  hand  raise  hell ! 

"And  so  I  have,"  he  murmured  to  me.  "And 
both  at  Forty-Second  and  Fifth  Avenue,  N.  Y. — 
U.S.A." 

Yolara  considered  all  this  with  manifest  doubt. 

"Hell?"  she  inquired  at  last.  "I  know  not  the 
word." 

"Well,"  answered  O'Keefe.  "Say  Muria  then. 
In  many  ways  they  are,  I  gather,  O  heart's  delight, 
one  and  the  same. " 

Now  the  doubt  in  the  blue  eyes  was  strong 
indeed.  She  shook  her  head. 

"None  of  our  men  can  do  that!"  she  answered, 
at  length.  "Nor  do  I  think  you  could,  Larree. " 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Larry  easily.  "I  never  tried  to 
be  that  strong.  I  fly, "  he  added,  casually. 

The  priestess  rose  to  her  feet,  gazing  at  him  with 
startled  eyes. 

"Fly!"  she  repeated  incredulously.  "Like  a 
Zitia?  A  bird?" 

Larry  nodded — and  then  seeing  the  dawning 
command  in  her  eyes,  went  on  hastily. 

"Not  with  my  own  wings,  Yolara.  In  a — a 
corial  that  moves  through — what's  the  word  for 
air,  Doc — well,  through  this — "  He  made  a  wide 
gesture  up  toward  the  nebulous  haze  above  us. 
He  took  a  pencil  and  on  a  white  cloth  made  a  hasty 
sketch  of  an  airplane.  ' '  In  a — a  corial  like  this —  " 
She  regarded  the  sketch  gravely,  thrust  a  hand 


i8o  The  Moon  Pool 

down  into  her  girdle  and  brought  forth  a  keen- 
bladed  poniard;  cut  Larry's  markings  out  and 
placed  the  fragment  carefully  aside. 

"That  I  can  understand, "  she  said. 

"Remarkably  intelligent  young  woman,"  mut 
tered  O'Keefe.  "Hope  I'm  not  giving  anything 
away — but  she  had  me. " 

"But  what  are  your  women  like,  Larree?  Are 
they  like  me?  And  how  many  have  loved  you?" 
she  whispered. 

"In  all  Ireland  and  America  there  is  none  like 
you,  Yolara, "  he  answered.  "And  take  that  any 
way  you  please,"  he  muttered  in  English.  She 
took  it,  it  was  evident,  as  it  most  pleased  her. 

"Do  you  have  goddesses?"  she  asked. 

"Every  woman  in  Ireland  and  America,  is  a 
goddess" ;  thus  Larry. 

"Now  that  I  do  not  believe."  There  was  both 
anger  and  mockery  in  her  eyes.  ' '  I  know  women, 
Larree — and  if  that  were  so  there  would  be  no 
peace  for  men." 

"There  isn't!"  replied  he.  The  anger  died  out 
and  she  laughed,  sweetly,  understandingly. 

"And  which  goddess  do  you  worship,  Larree?" 

"You!"  said  Larry  O'Keefe,  boldly. 

"Larry!  Larry!"  I  whispered.  "Be  careful. 
It's  high  explosive." 

But  the  priestess  was  laughing — little  trills  of 
.sweet  bell  notes ;  and  pleasure  was  in  each  note. 

"You  are  indeed  bold,  Larree,"  she  said,  "to 
offer  me  your  worship.  Yet  am  I  pleased  by  your 


Yolara  of  Muria  vs.  the  O'Keefe    181 

boldness.  Still — Lugur  is  strong ;  and  you  are  not 
of  those  who — what  did  you  say — have  tried.  And 
your  wings  are  not  here — Larree!" 

Again  her  laughter  rang  out.  The  Irishman 
flushed;  it  was  touche  for  Yolara! 

"Fear  not  for  me  with  Lugur, "  he  said,  grimly. 
"Rather  fear  for  him!" 

The  laughter  died ;  she  looked  at  him  searchingly ; 
a  little  enigmatic  smile  about  her  mouth — so  sweet 
and  so  cruel. 

"Well — we  shall  see,"  she  murmured.  "You 
say  you  battle  in  your  world.  With  what? " 

"Oh,  with  this  and  with  that, "  answered  Larry, 
airily.  "We  manage " 

"Have  you  the  Keth — I  mean  that  with  which  I 
sent  Songar  into  the  nothingness?"  she  asked 
swiftly. 

"See  what  she's  driving  at?"  O'Keefe  spoke  to 
me,  swiftly.  "Well  I  do!  But  here's  where  the 
O'Keefe  lands. 

"I  said,"  he  turned  to  her,  "O  voice  of  silver 
fire,  that  your  spirit  is  high  even  as  your  beauty — 
and  searched  out  men's  souls  as  does  your  loveli 
ness  their  hearts.  And  now  listen,  Yolara,  for  what 
I  speak  is  truth" — into  his  eyes  came  the  far-away 
gaze;  into  his  voice  the  Irish  softness —  "Lo,  in 
my  land  of  Ireland,  this  many  of  your  life's  length 
agone — see" — he  raised  his  ten  fingers,  clenched 
and  unclenched  them  times  twenty — "the  mighty 
men  of  my  race,  the  Taitha-da-Dainn,  could  send 
men  out  into  the  nothingness  even  as  do  you  with. 


1 82  The  Moon  Pool 

the  Keth.  And  this  they  did  by  their  harpings, 
and  by  words  spoken — words  of  power,  O  Yolara, 
that  have  their  power  still — and  by  pipings  and 
by  slaying  sounds. 

"There  was  Cravetheen  who  played  swift  flames 
from  his  harp,  flying  flames  that  ate  those  they 
were  sent  against.  And  there  was  Dalua,  of  Hy 
Brasil,  whose  pipes  played  away  from  man  and 
beast  and  all  living  things  their  shadows — and  at 
last  played  them  to  shadows  too,  so  that  wherever 
Dalua  went  his  shadows  that  had  been  men  and 
beast  followed  like  a  storm  of  little  rustling  leaves ; 
yea,  and  Bel  the  Harper,  who  could  make  women's 
hearts  run  like  wax  and  men's  hearts  flame  to  ashes 
and  whose  harpings  could  shatter  strong  cliffs 
and  bow  great  trees  to  the  sod " 

His  eyes  were  bright,  dream  filled;  she  shrank 
a  little  from  him,  faint  pallor  under  the  perfect 
skin. 

"I  say  to  you,  Yolara,  that  these  things  were 
and  are — in  Ireland."  His  voice  rang  strong. 
"And  I  have  seen  men  as  many  as  those  that  are 
in  your  great  chamber  this  many  times  over" — 
he  clenched  his  hands  once  more,  perhaps  a  dozen 
times — "blasted  into  nothingness  before  your 
Keth  could  even  have  touched  them.  Yea — and 
rocks  as  mighty  as  those  through  which  we  came 
lifted  up  and  shattered  before  the  lids  could  fall 
over  your  blue  eyes.  And  this  is  truth,  Yolara — 
all  truth!  Stay — have  you  that  little  cone  of  the 
Keth  with  which  you  destroyed  Songar?" 


Yolara  of  Muria  vs.  the  O'Keefe    183 

She  nodded,  gazing  at  him,  fascinated,  fear  and 
puzzlement  contending. 

"Then  use  it. "  He  took  a  vase  of  crystal  from 
the  table,  placed  it  on  the  threshold  that  led  into 
the  garden.  "Use  it  on  this — and  I  will  show 
you." 

"I  will  use  it  upon  one  of  the  ladala — "  she 
began  eagerly. 

The  exaltation  dropped  from  him;  there  was  a 
touch  of  horror  in  the  eyes  he  turned  to  her;  her 
own  dropped  before  it. 

"It  shall  be  as  you  say,"  she  said  hurriedly. 
She  drew  the  shining  cone  from  her  breast ;  levelled 
it  at  the  vase.  The  green  ray  leaped  forth,  spread 
over  the  crystal,  but  before  its  action  could  even 
be  begun,  a  flash  ot  light  shot  from  O'Keefe's  hand, 
his  automatic  spat  and  the  trembling  vase  flew 
into  fragments.  As  quickly  as  he  had  drawn  it,  he 
thrust  the  pistol  back  into  place  and  stood  there 
empty  handed,  looking  at  her  sternly.  From  the 
anteroom  came  shouting,  a  rush  of  feet. 

Yolara's  face  was  white,  her  eyes  strained — but 
her  voice  was  unshaken  as  she  called  to  the  clamour 
ing  guards: 

"It  is  nothing — go  to  your  places!" 

But  when  the  sound  of  their  return  had  ceased 
she  stared  tensely  at  the  Irishman — then  looked 
again  at  the  shattered  vase. 

"It  is  true!"  she  cried,  "but  see,  the  Keth  is — 
alive!" 

I  followed  her  pointing  finger.     Each  broken 


184  The  Moon  Pool 

bit  of  the  crystal  was  vibrating,  shaking  its  particles 
out  into  space.  Broken  it  the  bullet  of  Larry's 
had — but  not  released  it  from  the  grip  of  the 
disintegrating  force.  The  priestess's  face  was 
triumphant. 

"But  what  matters  it,  O  shining  urn  of  beauty 
— what  matters  it  to  the  vase  that  is  broken  what 
.happens  to  its  fragments?"  asked  Larry,  gravely 
— and  pointedly. 

The  triumph  died  from  her  face  and  for  a  space 
she  was  silent;  brooding. 

"Next,"  whispered  O'Keefe  to  me.  "Lots  of 
surprises  in  the  little  box;  keep  your  eye  on  the 
opening  and  see  what  comes  out." 

We  had  not  long  to  wait.  There  was  a  sparkle 
of  anger  about  Yolara,  something  too  of  injured 
pride.  She  clapped  her  hands;  whispered  to  the 
maid  who  answered  her  summons,  and  then  sat 
back  regarding  us,  maliciously. 

"You  have  answered  me  as  to  your  strength — 
but  you  have  not  proved  it ;  but  the  Keth  you  have 
answered.  Now  answer  this!"  she  said. 

She  pointed  out  into  the  garden.  I  saw  a 
flowering  branch  bend  and  snap  as  though  a  hand 
had  broken  it — but  no  hand  was  there!  Saw 
then  another  and  another  bend  and  break,  a  little 
tree  sway  and  fall — and  closer  and  closer  to  us 
came  the  trail  of  snapping  boughs  while  down 
into  the  garden  poured  the  silvery  light  revealing 
— nothing !  Now  a  great  ewer  beside  a  pillar  rose 
swiftly  in  air  and  hurled  itself  crashing  at  my  feet. 


Yolara  of  Muria  vs.  the  O'Keefe    185 

Cushions  close  to  us  swirled  about  as  though  in  the 
vortex  of  a  whirlwind. 

And  unseen  hands  held  my  arms  in  a  mighty 
clutch  fast  to  my  sides,  another  gripped  my  throat 
and  I  felt  a  needle-sharp  poniard  point  pierce  my 
shirt,  touch  the  skin  just  over  my  heart ! 

"Larry!"  I  cried,  despairingly.  I  twisted  my 
head;  saw  that  he  too  was  caught  in  this  grip  of 
the  invisible.  But  his  face  was  calm,  even  amused. 

"Keep  cool,  Doc!"  he  said.  "Remember — 
she  wants  to  learn  the  language!" 

Now  from  Yolara  burst  chime  upon  chime  of 
mocking  laughter.  She  gave  a  command — the 
hands  loosened,  the  poniard  withdrew  from  my 
heart ;  suddenly  as  I  had  been  caught  I  was  free — 
and  unpleasantly  weak  and  shaky. 

"Have  you  that  in  Ireland,  Larreef"  cried  the 
priestess — and  once  more  trembled  with  laughter. 

"A  good  play,  Yolara."  His  voice  was  as 
calm  as  his  face.  "But  they  did  that  in  Ireland 
even  before  Dalua  piped  away  his  first  man's 
shadow.  And  in  Goodwin's  land  they  make 
ships — coria  that  go  on  water — so  you  can  pass 
by  them  and  see  only  sea  and  sky;  and  those 
water  coria  are  each  of  them  many  times  greater 
than  this  whole  palace  of  yours." 

But  the  priestess  laughed  on. 

"It  did  get  me  a  little,"  whispered  Larry. 
"That  wasn't  quite  up  to  my  mark.  But,  God? 
If  we  could  find  that  trick  out  and  take  it  back 
with  us!" 


i86  The  Moon  Pool 

'  'Not  so,  Larree!"  Yolara  gasped,  through  her 
laughter.  "Not  so!  Goodwin's  cry  betrayed 
you!" 

Her  good  humour  had  entirely  returned;  she 
was  like  a  mischievous  child  pleased  over  some 
successful  trick;  and  like  a  child  she  cried — "I'll 
show  you!" — signalled  again;  whispered  to  the 
maid  who,  quickly  returning,  laid  before  her  a 
long  metal  case.  Yolara  took  from  her  girdle 
something  that  looked  like  a  small  pencil,  pressed 
it  and  shot  a  thin  stream  of  light  for  all  the  world 
like  an  electric  flash,  upon  its  hasp.  The  lid  flew 
open.  Out  of  it  she  drew  three  flat,  oval  crystals, 
faint  rose  in  hue.  She  handed  one  to  O'Keefe 
and  one  to  me. 

"Look!"  she  commanded,  placing  the  third 
before  her  own  eyes.  I  peered  through  the  stone 
and  instantly  there  leaped  into  sight,  out  of  thin 
air — six  grinning  dwarfs!  Each  was  covered 
from  top  of  head  to  soles  of  feet  in  a  web  so  tenuous 
that  through  it  their  bodies  were  plain.  The 
gauzy  stuff  seemed  to  vibrate — its  strands  to  run 
together  like  quicksilver.  I  snatched  the  crystal 
from  my  eyes  and — the  chamber  was  empty! 
Put  it  back — and  there  were  the  grinning  six ! 

Yolara  gave  another  sign  and  they  disappeared, 
even  from  the  crystals. 

"It  is  what  they  wear,  Larree,"  explained  Yolara, 
graciously.  "It  is  something  that  came  to  us 
from — the  Ancient  Ones.  But  we  have  so  few" 
— she  sighed. 


Yolara  of  Muria  vs.  the  O'Keefe   187 

"Such  treasures  must  be  two-edged  swords, 
Yolara,"  commented  O'Keefe.  "For  how  know 
you  that  one  within  them  creeps  not  to  you  with 
hand  eager  to  strike?" 

"There  is  no  danger,"  she  said  indifferently. 
"I  am  the  keeper  of  them." 

She  mused  for  a  space,  then  abruptly: 

"And  now  no  more.  You  two  are  to  appear 
before  the  Council  at  a  certain  time — but  fear 
nothing.  You,  Goodwin,  go  with  Rador  about 
our  city  and  increase  your  wisdom.  But  you, 
Larree,  await  me  here  in  my  garden — "  she  smiled 
at  him,  provocatively — maliciously,  too.  "For 
shall  not  one  who  has  resisted  a  world  of  goddesses 
be  given  all  chance  to  worship  when  at  last  he  finds 
his  own?" 

She  laughed — whole-heartedly  and  was  gone. 
And  at  that  moment  I  liked  Yolara  better  than 
ever  I  had  before  and — alas — better  than  ever  I 
was  to  in  the  future. 

I  noted  Rador  standing  outside  the  open  jade 
door  and  started  to  go,  but  O'Keefe  caught  me  by 
the  arm. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  he  urged.  "About  Golden 
Eyes — you  were  going  to  tell  me  something — it's 
been  on  my  mind  all  through  that  little  sparring 
match." 

I  told  him  of  the  vision  that  had  passed  through 
my  closing  lids.  He  listened  gravely  and  then 
laughed. 

"Hell  of  a  lot  of  privacy  in  this  place!"  he 


i88  The  Moon  Pool 

grinned.  "Ladies  who  can  walk  through  walls 
and  others  with  regular  invisible  cloaks  to  let 
'em  flit  wherever  they  please.  Oh,  well,  don't 
let  it  get  on  your  nerves,  Doc.  Remember — 
everything's  natural!  That  robe  stuff  is  just 
camouflage  of  course.  But  Lord,  if  we  could 
only  get  a  piece  of  it!" 

"The  material  simply  admits  all  light- vibrations, 
or  perhaps  curves  them,  just  as  the  opacities  cut 
them  off,"  I  answered.  "A  man  under  the  X- 
ray  is  partly  invisible;  this  makes  him  wholly  so. 
He  doesn't  register,  as  the  people  of  the  motion- 
picture  profession  say." 

"Camouflage,"  repeated  Larry.  "And  as  for 
the  Shining  One—  Say!"  he  snorted.  "I'd 
like  to  set  the  O'Keefe  banshee  up  against  it. 
I'll  bet  that  old  resourceful  Irish  body  would 
give  it  the  first  three  bites  and  a  strangle  hold  and 
wallop  it  before  it  knew  it  had  'em.  Oh!  Wow! 
Boy  Howdy!" 

I  heard  him  still  chuckling  gleefully  over  this 
vision  as  I  passed  along  the  opal  wall  with  the 
green  dwarf. 

A  shell  was  awaiting  us.  I  paused  before  enter 
ing  it  to  examine  the  polished  surface  of  runway 
and  great  road.  It  was  obsidian — volcanic  glass 
of  pale  emerald,  unflawed,  translucent,  with  no 
sign  of  block  or  juncture.  I  examined  the  shell. 

"What  makes  it  go?"  I  asked  Rador.  At  a 
word  from  him  the  driver  touched  a  concealed 
spring  and  an  aperture  appeared  beneath  the 


Yolara  of  Muria  vs.  the  O'Keefe    189 

control-lever,  of  which  I  have  spoken  in  a  preced 
ing  chapter.  Within  was  a  small  cube  of  black 
crystal,  through  whose  sides  I  saw,  dimly,  a 
rapidly  revolving,  glowing  ball,  not  more  than 
two  inches  in  diameter.  Beneath  the  cube  was  a 
curiously  shaped,  slender  cylinder  winding  down 
into  the  lower  body  of  the  Nautilus  whorl. 

"Watch!"  said  Rador.  He  motioned  me  into 
the  vehicle  and  took  a  place  beside  me.  The 
driver  touched  the  lever;  a  stream  of  corusca 
tions  flew  from  the  ball  down  into  the  cylinder. 
The  shell  started  smoothly,  and  as  the  tiny  tor 
rent  of  shining  particles  increased  it  gathered 
speed. 

' '  The  corial  does  not  touch  the  road, ' '  explained 
Rador.  "It  is  lifted  so  far" — he  held  his  fore 
finger  and  thumb  less  than  a  sixteenth  of  an  inch 
apart — ' '  above  it. ' ' 

And  perhaps  here  is  the  best  place  to  explain 
the  activation  of  the  shells  or  coria.  The  force 
utilized  was  atomic  energy.  Passing  from  the 
whirling  ball  the  ions  darted  through  the  cylinder 
to  two  bands  of  a  peculiar  metal  affixed  to  the  base 
of  the  vehicles  somewhat  like  skids  of  a  sled. 
Impinging  upon  these  they  produced  a  partial 
negation  of  gravity,  lifting  the  shell  slightly,  and 
at  the  same  time  creating  a  powerful  repulsive 
force  or  thrust  that  could  be  directed  backward, 
forward,  or  sidewise  at  the  will  of  the  driver.  The 
creation  of  this  energy  and  the  mechanism  of  its 
utilization  were,  briefly,  as  follows: 


196  The  Moon  Pool 

"'I  know  where  my  heart  is  now, '  I  told  him. 
'It  rests  on  a  girl  with  golden  eyes  and  the  hair 
and  swan-white  breast  of  Eilidh  the  Fair — but  me 
feet  don't  seem  to  get  me  to  her,'  I  said." 

The  brogue  thickened. 

"An'  the  little  man  in  green  nodded  his  head  an1 
whirled  his  shillalah. 

'"It's  what  I  came  to  tell  ye, '  says  he.  'Don't 
ye  fall  for  the  Bhean-Nimher,  the  serpent  woman 
wit'  the  blue  eyes;  she's  a  daughter  of  Ivor,  lad — 
an'  don't  ye  do  nothin'  to  make  the  brown-haired 
colleen  ashamed  o'  ye,  Larry  O'Keefe.  I  knew 
yer  great,  great  grandfather  an'  his  before  him, 
aroon, '  says  he,  'an'  wan  o'  the  O'Keefe  failin's 
is  to  think  their  hearts  big  enough  to  hold  all  the 
wimmen  o'  the  world.  A  heart's  built  to  hold 
only  wan  permanently,  Larry,'  he  says,  'an  I'm 
warnin'  ye  a  nice  girl  don't  like  to  move  into  a 
place  all  cluttered  up  wid  another's  washin'  an' 
mendin'  an'  cookin'  an'  other  things  pertainin'  to 
general  wife  work.  Not  that  I  think  the  blue- 
eyed  wan  is  keen  for  mendin'  an'  cookin'!'  says 
he. 

"'You  don't  have  to  be  comin'  all  this  way  to 
tell  me  that,'  I  answer. 

"  'Well,  I'm  just  a  tellin '  you, '  he  says.  ' Ye've 
got  some  rough  knocks  comin',  Larry.  In  fact, 
ye're  in  for  a  very  devil  of  a  time.  But,  remember 
that  ye're  the  O'Keefe,'  says  he.  'An'  while  the 
bhoys  are  all  wid  ye,  avick,  ye've  got  to  be  on  the 
job  yourself.' 


The  Leprechaun  197 

"'I  hope,'  I  tell  him,  'that  the  O'Keefe  banshee 
can  find  her  way  here  in  time — that  is,  if  it's 
necessary,  which  I  hope  it  won't  be.' 

"'Don't  ye  worry  about  that,'  says  he.  'Not 
that  she's  keen  on  leavin'  the  ould  sod,  Larry. 
The  good  ould  soul's  in  quite  a  state  o'  mind  about 
ye,  aroon.  I  don't  mind  tellin'  ye,  lad,  that  she's 
mobilizin'  all  the  clan  an'  if  she  has  to  come  for  ye, 
avick,  they'll  be  wid  her  an'  they'll  sweep  this 
joint  clean  before  ye  go.  What  they'll  do  to  it  '11 
make  the  Big  Wind  look  like  a  summer  breeze  on 
Lough  Lene!  An'  that's  about  all,  Larry.  We 
thought  a  voice  from  the  Green  Isle  would  cheer  ye. 
Don't  fergit  that  ye're  the  O'Keefe — an'  I  say  it 
again — all  the  bhoys  are  wid  ye.  But  we  want  t' 
kape  bein'  proud  o'  ye,  lad ! ' 

"An'  I  looked  again  and  there  was  only  a  bush 
waving." 

There  wasn't  a  smile  in  my  heart — or  if  there 
was  it  was  a  very  tender  one. 

"I'm  going  to  bed, "  he  said  abruptly.  "Keep 
an  eye  on  the  wall,  Doc!" 

Between  the  seven  sleeps  that  followed,  Larry 
and  I  saw  but  little  of  each  other.  Yolara  sought 
him  more  and  more.  Thrice  we  were  called  before 
the  Council ;  once  we  were  at  a  great  feast,  whose 
splendours  and  surprises  I  can  never  forget. 
Largely  I  was  in  the  company  of  Rador.  Together 
we  two  passed  the  green  barriers  into  the  dwelling- 
place  of  the  ladala. 

They  seemed  provided  with  everything  needful 


198  The  Moon  Pool 

for  life.  But  everywhere  was  an  oppressiveness,  a 
gathering  together  of  hate,  that  was  spiritual  rather 
than  material — as  tangible  as  the  latter  and  far, 
far  more  menacing ! 

"They  do  not  like  to  dance  with  the  Shining 
One, "  was  Rador's  constant  and  only  reply  to  my 
efforts  to  find  the  cause. 

Once  I  had  concrete  evidence  of  the  mood. 
Glancing  behind  me,  I  saw  a  white,  vengeful  face 
peer  from  behind  a  tree-trunk,  a  hand  lift,  a 
shining  dart  speed  from  it  straight  toward  Rador's 
back.  Instinctively  I  thrust  him  aside.  He 
turned  upon  me  angrily.  I  pointed  to  where  the 
little  missile  lay,  still  quivering,  on  the  ground. 
He  gripped  my  hand. 

"That,  some  day  I  will  repay!"  he  said.  I 
looked  again  at  the  thing.  At  its  end  was  a  tiny 
cone  covered  with  a  glistening,  gelatinous  sub 
stance. 

Rador  pulled  from  a  tree  beside  us  a  fruit  some 
what  like  an  apple. 

"Look!"  he  said.  He  dropped  it  upon  the  dart 
• — and  at  once,  before  my  eyes,  in  less  than  teo 
seconds,  the  fruit  had  rotted  away! 

"That's  what  would  have  happened  to  Rador 
but  for  you,  friend ! "  he  said. 

Come  now  between  this  and  the  prelude  to  the 
latter  half  of  the  drama  whose  history  this  narra 
tive  is — only  scattering  and  necessarily  fragmen 
tary  observations. 

First — the  nature  of  the  ebon  opacities,  blocking 


The  Leprechaun  199 

out  the  spaces  between  the  pavilion-pillars  or 
covering  their  tops  like  roofs.  These  were  mag 
netic  fields,  light  absorbers,  negativing  the  vibra 
tions  of  radiance;  literally  screens  of  electric  force 
which  formed  as  impervious  a  barrier  to  light  as 
would  have  screens  of  steel. 

They  instantaneously  made  night  appear  in  a 
place  where  no  night  was.  But  they  interposed  no 
obstacle  to  air  or  to  sound.  They  were  extremely 
simple  in  their  inception — no  more  miraculous 
than  is  glass,  which,  inversely,  admits  the  vibra 
tions  of  light,  but  shuts  out  those  coarser  ones  we 
call  air — and,  partly,  those  others  which  produce 
upon  our  auditory  nerves  the  effects  we  call 
sound. 

Briefly,  their  mechanism  was  this : 

[For  the  same  reason  that  Dr.  Goodwin's  exposition 
of  the  mechanism  of  the  atomic  engines  was  deleted, 
his  description  of  the  light-destroying  screens  has  been 
deleted  by  the  Executive  Council. — J.  B.  K.  President, 
I.  A.  of  S.] 

There  were  two  favoured  classes  of  the  ladala — 
the  soldiers  and  the  dream-makers.  The  dream- 
makers  were  the  most  astonishing  social  phenomena, 
I  think,  of  all.  Denied  by  their  circumscribed  en 
vironment  the  wider  experiences  of  us  of  the  outer 
world,  the  Murians  had  perfected  an  amazing 
system  of  escape  through  the  imagination. 

They  were,  too,  intensely  musical.  Their  favour 
ite  instruments  were  double  flutes;  immensely 


200  The  Moon  Pool 

complex  pipe-organs;  harps,  great  and  small. 
They  had  another  remarkable  instrument  made  up 
of  a  double  octave  of  small  drums  which  gave  forth 
percussions  remarkably  disturbing  to  the  emo 
tional  centres. 

It  was  this  love  of  music  that  gave  rise  to  one 
of  the  few  truly  humorous  incidents  of  our  caverned 
life.  Larry  came  to  me — it  was  just  after  our 
fourth  sleep,  I  remember. 

"Come  on  to  a  concert, "  he  said. 

We  skimmed  off  to  one  of  the  bridge  garrisons. 
Rador  called  the  twoscore  guards  to  attention; 
and  then,  to  my  utter  stupefaction,  the  whole 
company,  O'Keefe  leading  them,  roared  out  the 
anthem,  "God  Save  the  King."  They  sang — in  a 
closer  approach  to  the  English  than  might  have 
been  expected  scores  of  miles  below  England's 
level.  "Send  him  victorious!  Happy  and  glorious!" 
they  bellowed. 

He  quivered  with  suppressed  mirth  at  my 
paralysis  of  surprise. 

"Taught  'em  that  for  Marakinoffs  benefit!" 
he  gasped.  "Wait  till  that  Red  hears  it.  He'll 
blow  up. 

"Just  wait  until  you  hear  Yolara  lisp  a  pretty 
little  thing  I  taught  her,"  said  Larry  as  we  set 
back  for  what  we  now  called  home.  There  was  an 
impish  twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

And  I  did  hear.  For  it  was  not  many  minutes 
later  that  the  priestess  condescended  to  command 
me  to  come  to  her  with  O'Keefe. 


The  Leprechaun  201 

"Show  Goodwin  how  much  you  have  learned 
of  our  speech,  O  lady  of  the  lips  of  honeyed  flame! " 
murmured  Larry. 

She  hesitated;  smiled  at  him,  and  then  from 
that  perfect  mouth,  out  of  the  exquisite  throat,  in 
the  voice  that  was  like  the  chiming  of  little  silver 
bells,  she  trilled  a  melody  familiar  to  me  indeed : 

"She's  only  a  bird  in  a  gilded  cage, 
A  bee-yu-tiful  sight  to  see — " 

And  so  on  to  the  bitter  end. 

"She  thinks  it's  a  love-song,"  said  Larry  when 
we  had  left.  "It's  only  part  of  a  repertoire  I'm 
teaching  her.  Honestly,  Doc,  it's  the  only  way 
I  can  keep  my  mind  clear  when  I'm  with  her, "  he 
went  on  earnestly.  "She's  a  devil-ess  from  hell — 
but  a  wonder.  Whenever  I  find  myself  going  I 
get  her  to  sing  that,  or  Take  Back  Your  Gold!  or 
some  other  ancient  lay,  and  I'm  back  again — 
pronto — with  the  right  perspective !  Pop  goes  all 
the  mystery !  '  Hell !'  I  say, '  she's  only  a  woman ! '" 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  AMPHITHEATRE  OF  JET 

FOR  hours  the  black-haired  folk  had  been  stream 
ing  across  the  bridges,  flowing  along  the  promenade 
by  scores  and  by  hundreds,  drifting  down  toward 
the  gigantic  seven-terraced  temple  whose  interior 
I  had  never  as  yet  seen,  and  from  whose  towering 
exterior,  indeed,  I  had  always  been  kept  far 
enough  away — unobtrusively,  but  none  the  less 
decisively — to  prevent  any  real  observation.  The 
structure,  I  had  estimated,  nevertheless,  could 
not  reach  less  than  a  thousand  feet  above  its 
silvery  base,  and  the  diameter  of  its  circular 
foundation  was  about  the  same. 

I  wondered  what  was  bringing  the  ladala  into 
Lora,  and  where  they  were  vanishing.  All  of 
them  were  flower-crowned  with  the  luminous, 
lovely  blooms — old  and  young,  slender,  mocking- 
eyed  girls,  dwarfed  youths,  mothers  with  their 
babes,  gnomed  oldsters — on  they  poured,  silent 
for  the  most  part  and  sullen — a  sullenness  that 
held  acid  bitterness  even  as  their  subtle,  half- 
sinister,  half-gay  malice  seemed  tempered  into 
little  keen-edged  flames,  oddly,  menacingly  defiant. 


The  Amphitheatre  of  Jet      203 

There  were  many  of  the  green-clad  soldiers 
along  the  way,  and  the  garrison  of  the  only  bridge 
span  I  could  see  had  certainly  been  doubled. 

Wondering  still,  I  turned  from  my  point  of 
observation  and  made  my  way  back  to  our  pavil 
ion,  hoping  that  Larry,  who  had  been  with  Yolara 
for  the  past  two  hours,  had  returned.  Hardly 
had  I  reached  it  before  Rador  came  hurrying  up, 
in  his  manner  a  curious  exultance  mingled  with 
what  in  any  one  else  I  would  have  called  a  decided 
nervousness. 

"Come!"  he  commanded  before  I  could  speak. 
"The  Council  has  made  decision — and  Larree  is 
awaiting  you." 

"What  has  been  decided?"  I  panted  as  we  sped 
along  the  mosaic  path  that  led  to  the  house  of 
Yolara.  "And  why  is  Larry  awaiting  me?" 

And  at  his  answer  I  felt  my  heart  pause  in  its 
beat  and  through  me  race  a  wave  of  mingled 
panic  and  eagerness. 

"The  Shining  One  dances!"  had  answered  the 
green  dwarf.  "And  you  are  to  worship! " 

What  was  this  dancing  of  the  Shining  One,  of 
which  so  often  he  had  spoken? 

Whatever  my  forebodings,  Larry  evidently  had 
none. 

' '  Great  stuff ! "  he  cried,  when  we  had  met  in  the 
great  antechamber  now  empty  of  the  dwarfs. 
"Hope  it  will  be  worth  seeing — have  to  be  some 
thing  damned  good,  though,  to  catch  me,  after 
what  I've  seen  of  shows  at  the  front, "  he  added. 


204  The  Moon  Pool 

And  remembering,  with  a  little  shock  of  appre~ 
hension,  that  he  had  no  knowledge  of  the  Dweller 
beyond  my  poor  description  of  it — for  there  are 
no  words  actually  to  describe  what  that  miracle 
of  interwoven  glory  and  horror  was — I  wondered 
what  Larry  O'Keefe  would  say  and  do  when  he 
did  behold  it! 

Rador  began  to  show  impatience. 

"Come!"  he  urged.  "There  is  much  to  be 
done — and  the  time  grows  short!" 

He  led  us  to  a  tiny  fountain  room  in  whose 
miniature  pool  the  white  waters  were  concentrated, 
pearl-like  and  opalescent  in  their  circling  rim. 

"Bathe!"  he  commanded;  and  set  the  example 
by  stripping  himself  and  plunging  within.  Only  a 
minute  or  two  did  the  green  dwarf  allow  us,  and 
he  checked  us  as  we  were  about  to  don  our  clothing. 

Then,  to  my  intense  embarrassment,  without 
warning,  two  of  the  black-haired  girls  entered, 
bearing  robes  of  a  peculiar  dull-blue  hue.  At  our 
manifest  discomfort  Rador's  laughter  roared  out. 
He  took  the  garments  from  the  pair,  motioned 
them  to  leave  us,  and,  still  laughing,  threw  one 
around  me.  Its  texture  was  soft,  but  decidedly 
metallic — like  some  blue  metal  spun  to  the  fine 
ness  of  a  spider's  thread.  The  garment  buckled 
tightly  at  the  throat,  was  girdled  at  the  waist, 
and,  below  this  cincture,  fell  to  the  floor,  its  folds 
being  held  together  by  a  half-dozen  looped  cords; 
from  the  shoulders  a  hood  resembling  a  monk's 
cowl. 


The  Amphitheatre  of  Jet      205 

Rador  cast  this  over  my  head;  it  completely 
covered  my  face,  but  was  of  so  transparent  a 
texture  that  I  could  see,  though  somewhat  mistily, 
through  it.  Finally  he  handed  us  both  a  pair  of 
long  gloves  of  the  same  material  and  high  stock 
ings,  the  feet  of  which  were  gloved — five-toed. 

And  again  his  laughter  rang  out  at  our  manifest 
surprise. 

"The  priestess  of  the  Shining  One  does  not 
altogether  trust  the  Shining  One's  Voice, "  he  said 
at  last.  "And  these  are  to  guard  against  any 
sudden — errors.  And  fear  not,  Goodwin,"  he 
went  on  kindly.  "Not  for  the  Shining  One  itself 
would  Yolara  see  harm  come  to  Larree  here — nor, 
because  of  him,  to  you.  But  I  would  not  stake 
much  on  the  great  white  one.  And  for  him  I  am 
sorry,  for  him  I  do  like  well." 

"Is  he  to  be  with  us?"  asked  Larry  eagerly. 

"He  is  to  be  where  we  go,"  replied  the  dwarf 
soberly. 

Grimly  Larry  reached  down  and  drew  from  his 
uniform  his  automatic.  He  popped  a  fresh  clip 
into  the  pocket  fold  of  his  girdle.  The  pistol  he 
slung  high  up  beneath  his  arm-pit. 

The  green  dwarf  looked  at  the  weapon  curiously. 
O'Keefe  tapped  it. 

"This,"  said  Larry,  "slays  quicker  than  the 
Keth — I  take  it  so  no  harm  shall  come  to  the  blue- 
eyed  one  whose  name  is  Olaf.  If  I  should  raise 
it — be  you  not  in  its  way,  Rador!"  he  added 
significantly. 


2o6  The  Moon  Pool 

The  dwarf  nodded  again,  his  eyes  sparkling. 
He  thrust  a  hand  out  to  both  of  us. 

"A  change  comes,"  he  said.  "What  it  is  I 
know  not,  nor  how  it  will  fall.  But  this  remember 
— Rador  is  more  friend  to  you  than  you  yet  can 
know.  And  now  let  us  go!"  he  ended  abruptly. 

He  led  us,  not  through  the  entrance,  but  into  a 
sloping  passage  ending  in  a  blind  wall;  touched  a 
symbol  graven  there,  and  it  opened,  precisely  as 
had  the  rosy  barrier  of  the  Moon  Pool  Chamber. 
And,  just  as  there,  but  far  smaller,  was  a  passage 
end,  a  low  curved  wall  facing  a  shaft  not  black 
as  had  been  that  abode  of  living  darkness,  but 
faintly  luminescent.  Rador  leaned  over  the  wall. 
The  mechanism  clicked  and  started;  the  door 
swung  shut;  the  sides  of  the  car  slipped  into 
place,  and  we  swept  swiftly  down  the  passage; 
overhead  the  wind  whistled.  In  a  few  moments 
the  moving  platform  began  to  slow  down.  It 
stopped  in  a  closed  chamber  no  larger  than  itself. 

Rador  drew  his  poniard  and  struck  twice  upon  the 
wall  with  its  hilt.  Immediately  a  panel  moved 
away,  revealing  a  space  filled  with  faint,  misty 
blue  radiance.  And  at  each  side  of  the  opened 
portal  stood  four  of  the  dwarfish  men,  grey 
headed,  old,  clad  in  flowing  garments  of  white, 
each  pointing  toward  us  a  short  silver  rod. 

Rador  drew  from  his  girdle  a  ring  and  held  it 
out  to  the  first  dwarf.  He  examined  it,  handed 
it  to  the  one  beside  him,  and  not  until  each  had 
inspected  the  ring  did  they  lower  their  curious 


The  Amphitheatre  of  Jet      207 

weapons;  containers  of  that  terrific  energy  they 
called  the  Keth,  I  thought;  and  later  was  to  know 
that  I  had  been  right. 

We  stepped  out;  the  doors  closed  behind  us. 
The  place  was  weird  enough.  Its  pave  was  a 
greenish-blue  stone  resembling  lapis  lazuli.  On 
each  side  were  high  pedestals  holding  carved 
figures  of  the  same  material.  There  were  perhaps 
a  score  of  these,  but  in  the  mistiness  I  could  not 
make  out  their  outlines.  A  droning,  rushing  roar 
beat  upon  our  ears;  filled  the  whole  cavern. 

"I  smell  the  sea, "  said  Larry  suddenly. 

The  roaring  became  deep-toned,  clamorous, 
and  close  in  front  of  us  a  rift  opened.  Twenty 
feet  in  width,  it  cut  the  cavern  floor  and  vanished 
into  the  blue  mist  on  each  side.  The  cleft  was 
spanned  by  one  solid  slab  of  rock  not  more  than 
two  yards  wide.  It  had  neither  railing  nor  other 
protection. 

The  four  leading  priests  marched  out  upon  it 
one  by  one,  and  we  followed.  In  the  middle  of 
the  span  they  knelt.  Ten  feet  beneath  us  was  a 
torrent-  of  blue  sea-water  racing  with  prodigious 
speed  between  polished  walls.  It  gave  the  im 
pression  of  vast  depth.  It  roared  as  it  sped  by, 
and  far  to  the  right  was  a  low  arch  through  which 
it  disappeared.  It  was  so  swift  that  its  surface 
shone  like  polished  blue  steel,  and  from  it  came  the 
blessed,  our  worldly,  familiar  ocean  breath  that 
strengthened  my  soul  amazingly  and  made  me 
realize  how  earth-sick  I  was. 


208  The  Moon  Pool 

Whence  came  the  stream,  I  marvelled,  forgetting 
for  the  moment,  as  we  passed  on  again,  all  else. 
Were  we  closer  to  the  surface  of  earth  than  I  had 
thought,  or  was  this  some  mighty  flood  falling 
through  an  opening  in  sea  floor,  Heaven  alone 
knew  how  many  miles  above  us,  losing  itself  in 
deeper  abysses  beyond  these?  How  near  and 
how  far  this  was  from  the  truth  I  was  to  learn—' 
and  never  did  truth  come  to  man  in  more  dreadful 
guise! 

The  roaring  fell  away,  the  blue  haze  lessened. 
In  front  of  us  stretched  a  wide  flight  of  steps,  huge 
as  those  which  had  led  us  into  the  courtyard  of 
Nan-Tauach  through  the  ruined  sea-gate.  We 
scaled  it;  it  narrowed;  from  above  light  poured 
through  a  still  narrower  opening.  Side  by  side 
Larry  and  I  passed  out  of  it. 

We  had  emerged  upon  an  enormous  platform 
of  what  seemed  to  be  glistening  ivory.  It  stretched 
before  us  for  a  hundred  yards  or  more  and  then 
shelved  gently  into  the  white  waters.  Opposite 
— not  a  mile  away — was  that  prodigious  web  of 
woven  rainbows  Rador  had  called  the  Veil  of 
the  Shining  One.  There  it  shone  in  all  its  un 
earthly  grandeur,  on  each  side  of  the  Cyclopean 
pillars,  as  though  a  mountain  should  stretch  up 
arms  raising  between  them  a  fairy  banner  of  auroral 
glories.  Beneath  it  was  the  curved,  scimetar  sweep 
of  the  pier  with  its  clustered,  gleaming  temples. 

Before  that  brief,  fascinated  glance  was  done, 
there  dropped  upon  my  soul  a  sensation  as  of 


The  Amphitheatre  of  Jet      209 

brooding  weight  intolerable;  a  spiritual  oppression 
as  though  some  vastness  was  falling,  pressing, 
stifling  me.  I  turned — and  Larry  caught  me  as  I 
reeled. 

"Steady!     Steady,  old  man!"  he  whispered. 

At  first  all  that  my  staggering  consciousness 
could  realize  was  an  immensity,  an  immeasurable 
uprearing  that  brought  with  it  the  same  throat- 
gripping  vertigo  as  comes  from  gazing  downward 
from  some  great  height — then  a  blur  of  white 
faces — intolerable  shinings  of  hundreds  upon 
thousands  of  eyes.  Huge,  incredibly  huge,  a  colos 
sal  amphitheatre  of  jet,  a  stupendous  semi-circle, 
held  within  its  mighty  arc  the  ivory  platform  on 
tvhich  I  stood. 

It  reared  itself  almost  perpendicularly  hundreds 
of  feet  up  into  the  sparkling  heavens,  and  thrust 
down  on  each  side  its  ebon  bulwarks — like  mon 
strous  paws.  Now,  the  giddiness  from  its  sheer 
greatness  passing,  I  saw  that  it  was  indeed  an 
amphitheatre  sloping  slightly  backward  tier  after 
tier,  and  that  the  white  blur  of  faces  against  its 
blackness,  the  gleaming  of  countless  eyes  were 
those  of  myriads  of  the  people  who  sat  silent, 
flower-garlanded,  their  gaze  focused  upon  the 
rainbow  curtain  and  sweeping  over  me  like  a 
torrent — tangible,  appalling ! 

Five  hundred  feet  beyond,  the  smooth,  high 
retaining  wall  of  the  amphitheatre  raised  itself — 
above  it  the  first  terrace  of  the  seats,  and  above 
this,  dividing  the  tiers  for  another  half  a  thousand 


2io  The  Moon  Pool 

feet  upward,  set  within  them  like  a  panel,  was  a 
dead-black  surface  in  which  shone  faintly  with 
a  bluish  radiance  a  gigantic  disk;  above  it  and 
around  it  a  cluster  of  innumerable  smaller  ones. 

On  each  side  of  me,  bordering  the  platform, 
were  scores  of  small  pillared  alcoves,  a  low  wall 
stretching  across  their  fronts;  delicate,  fretted 
grills  shielding  them,  save  where  in  each  lattice  an 
opening  stared — it  came  to  me  that  they  were  like 
those  stalls  in  ancient  Gothic  cathedrals  wherein 
for  centuries  had  kneeled  paladins  and  people  of 
my  own  race  on  earth's  fair  face.  And  within 
these  alcoves  were  gathered,  score  upon  score,  the 
elfin  beauties,  the  dwarfish  men  of  the  fair-haired 
folk.  At  my  right,  a  few  feet  from  the  opening 
through  which  we  had  come,  a  passageway  led 
back  between  the  fretted  stalls.  Half-way  between 
us  and  the  massive  base  of  the  amphitheatre  a  dais 
rose.  Up  the  platform  to  it  a  wide  ramp  ascended ; 
and  on  ramp  and  dais  and  along  the  centre  of  the 
gleaming  platform  down  to  where  it  kissed  the 
white  waters,  a  broad  ribbon  of  the  radiant  flowers 
lay  like  a  fairy  carpet. 

On  one  side  of  this  dais,  meshed  in  a  silken  web 
that  hid  no  line  or  curve  of  her  sweet  body,  white 
flesh  gleaming  through  its  folds,  stood  Yolara ;  and 
opposite  her,  crowned  with  a  circlet  of  flashing 
blue  stones,  his  mighty  body  stark  bare,  was 
Lugur! 

O'Keefe  drew  a  long  breath;  Rador  touched  my 
arm  and,  still  dazed,  I  let  myself  be  drawn  into 


The  Amphitheatre  of  Jet      211 

the  aisle  and  through  a  corridor  that  ran  behind 
the  alcoves.  At  the  back  of  one  of  these  the  green 
dwarf  paused,  opened  a  door,  and  motioned  us 
within. 

Entering,  I  found  that  we  were  exactly  opposite 
where  the  ramp  ran  up  to  the  dais — and  that 
Yolara  was  not  more  than  fifty  feet  away.  She 
glanced  at  O'Keefe  and  smiled.  Her  eyes  were 
ablaze  with  little  dancing  points  of  light ;  her  body 
seemed  to  palpitate,  the  rounded  delicate  muscles 
beneath  the  translucent  skin  to  run  with  joyful 
little  eager  waves ! 

Larry  whistled  softly. 

"There's  Marakinoff !"  he  said. 

I  looked  where  he  pointed.  Opposite  us  sat 
the  Russian,  clothed  as  we  were,  leaning  forward, 
his  eyes  eager  behind  his  glasses ;  but  if  he  saw  us 
he  gave  no  sign. 

"And  there's  Olaf !"  said  O'Keefe. 

Beneath  the  carved  stall  in  which  sat  the  Rus 
sian  was  an  aperture  and  within  it  was  Hul- 
dricksson.  Unprotected  by  pillars  or  by  grills, 
opening  clear  upon  the  platform,  near  him 
stretched  the  trail  of  flowers  up  to  the  great  dais 
which  Lugur  and  Yolara  the  priestess  guarded. 
He  sat  alone,  and  my  heart  went  out  to  him. 

O'Keefe's  face  softened. 

"Bring  him  here, "  he  said  to  Rador. 

The  green  dwarf  was  looking  at  the  Norseman, 
too,  a  shade  of  pity  upon  his  mocking  face.  He 
shook  his  head. 


212  The  Moon  Pool 

"Wait!"  he  said.  "You  can  do  nothing  now — 
and  it  may  be  there  will  be  no  need  to  do  any 
thing,  "  he  added;  but  I  could  feel  that  there  was 
little  of  conviction  in  his  words. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  MADNESS   OF  OLAF 

YOLARA  threw  her  white  arms  high.  From 
the  mountainous  tiers  eame  a  mighty  sigh;  a 
rippling  ran  through  them.  And  upon  the  mo 
ment,  before  Yolara's  arms  fell,  there  issued, 
apparently  from  the  air  around  us,  a  peal  of  sound 
that  might  have  been  the  shouting  of  some  playful 
god  hurling  great  suns  through  the  net  of  stars. 
It  was  like  the  deepest  notes  of  all  the  organs  in  the 
world  combined  in  one;  summoning,  majestic, 
cosmic ! 

It  held  within  it  the  thunder  of  the  spheres 
rolling  through  the  infinite,  the  birth-song  of 
suns  made  manifest  in  the  womb  of  space;  echoes 
of  creation's  supernal  chord!  It  shook  the  body 
like  a  pulse  from  the  heart  of  the  universe — 
pulsed — and  died  away. 

On  its  death  came  a  blaring  as  of  all  the  trumpets 
of  conquering  hosts  since  the  first  Pharaoh  led 
his  swarms — triumphal,  compelling!  Alexander's 
clamouring  hosts,  brazen-throated  wolf-horns  of 
Cassar's  legions,  blare  of  trumpets  of  Genghis 
Khan  and  his  golden  horde,  clangour  of  the  locust 

213 


214  The  Moon  Pool 

levies  of  Tamerlane,  bugles  of  Napoleon's  armies 
— war-shout  of  all  earth's  conquerors!  And  it 
died! 

Fast  upon  it,  a  throbbing,  muffled  tumult  of 
harp  sounds,  mellownesses  of  myriads  of  wood 
horns,  the  subdued  sweet  shrilling  of  multitudes 
of  flutes,  Pandean  pipings — inviting,  carrying  with 
them  the  calling  of  waterfalls  in  the  hidden  places, 
rushing  brooks  and  murmuring  forest  winds — call 
ing,  calling,  languorous,  lulling,  dripping  into  the 
brain  like  the  very  honeyed  essence  of  sound. 

And  after  them  a  silence  in  which  the  memory 
of  the  music  seemed  to  beat,  to  beat  ever  more 
faintly,  through  every  quivering  nerve. 

From  me  all  fear,  all  apprehension,  had  fled. 
In  their  place  was  nothing  but  joyous  anticipation, 
a  supernal  freedom  from  even  the  shadow  of  the 
shadow  of  care  or  sorrow;  not  now  did  anything 
matter — Olaf  or  his  haunted,  hate-filled  eyes; 
Throckmartin  or  his  fate — nothing  of  pain,  nothing 
of  agony,  nothing  of  striving  nor  endeavour  nor 
despair  in  that  wide  outer  world  that  had  turned 
suddenly  to  a  troubled  dream. 

Once  more  the  first  great  note  pealed  out! 
Once  more  it  died  and  from  the  clustered  spheres  a 
kaleidoscopic  blaze  shot  as  though  drawn  from  the 
majestic  sound  itself.  The  many-coloured  rays 
darted  across  the  white  waters  and  sought  the 
face  of  the  irised  Veil.  As  they  touched,  it  sparkled, 
flamed,  wavered,  and  shook  with  fountains  of 
prismatic  colour. 


The  Madness  of  Olaf          215 

The  light  increased — and  in  its  intensity  the 
sliver  air  darkened.  Faded  into  shadow  that 
white  mosaic  of  flower-crowned  faces  set  in  the 
amphitheatre  of  jet,  and  vast  shadows  dropped 
upon  the  high-flung  tiers  and  shrouded  them. 
But  on  the  skirts  of  the  rays  the  fretted  stalls  in 
which  we  sat  with  the  fair-haired  ones  blazed  out, 
iridescent,  like  jewels. 

I  was  sensible  of  an  acceleration  of  every  pulse; 
a  wild  stimulation  of  every  nerve.  I  felt  myself 
being  lifted  above  the  world — close  to  the  thresh 
old  of  the  high  gods — soon  their  essence  and 
their  power  would  stream  out  into  me!  I  glanced 
at  Larry.  His  eyes  were — wild — with  life! 

I  looked  at  Olaf — and  in  his  face  was  none  of 
this — only  hate,  and  hate,  and  hate. 

The  peacock  waves  streamed  out  over  the 
waters,  cleaving  the  seeming  darkness,  a  rainbow 
path  of  glory.  And  the  Veil  flashed  as  though  all 
the  rainbows  that  had  ever  shone  were  burning 
within  it.  Again  the  mighty  sound  pealed. 

Into  the  centre  of  the  Veil  the  light  drew  itself, 
grew  into  an  intolerable  brightness — and  with 
a  storm  of  tinklings,  a  tempest  of  crystalline 
notes,  a  tumult  of  tiny  chimings,  through  it  sped 
— the  Shining  One! 

Straight  down  that  radiant  path,  its  high-flung 
plumes  of  feathery  flame  shimmering,  its  coruscat 
ing  spirals  whirling,  its  seven  globes  of  seven 
colours  shining  above  its  glowing  core,  it  raced 
toward  us.  The  hurricane  ot  bells  of  diamond 


2i6  The  Moon  Pool 

glass  were  jubilant,  joyous.  I  felt  O'Keefe  grip 
my  arm;  Yolara  threw  her  white  arms  out  in  a 
welcoming  gesture;  I  heard  from  the  tiers  a  sigh  of 
rapture — and  in  it  a  poignant,  wailing  undertone 
of  agony ! 

Over  the  waters,  down  the  light  stream,  to  the 
end  of  the  ivory  pier,  flew  the  Shining  One. 
Through  its  crystal  pizzicati  drifted  inarticulate 
murmurings — deadly  sweet,  stilling  the  heart  and 
setting  it  leaping  madly. 

For  a  moment  it  paused,  poised  itself,  and  then 
came  whirling  down  the  flower  path  to  its  priestess, 
slowly,  ever  more  slowly.  It  hovered  for  a  mo 
ment  between  the  woman  and  the  dwarf,  as 
though  contemplating  them;  turned  to  her  with 
its  storm  of  tinklings  softened,  its  murmurings 
infinitely  caressing.  Bent  toward  it,  Yolara 
seemed  to  gather  within  herself  pulsing  waves 
of  power;  she  was  terrifying;  gloriously,  madden 
ingly  evil ;  and  as  gloriously,  maddeningly  heavenly ! 
Aphrodite  and  the  Virgin!  Tanith  of  the  Car 
thaginians  and  St.  Bride  of  the  Isles!  A  queen 
of  hell  and  a  princess  of  heaven — in  one! 

Only  for  a  moment  did  that  which  we  had  called 
the  Dweller  and  which  these  named  the  Shining 
One,  pause.  It  swept  up  the  ramp  to  the  dais, 
rested  there,  slowly  turning,  plumes  and  spirals 
lacing  and  unlacing,  throbbing,  pulsing.  Now  its 
nucleus  grew  plainer,  stronger — human  in  a 
fashion,  and  all  inhuman ;  neither  man  nor  woman ; 
neither  god  nor  devil;  subtly  partaking  of  all. 


The  Madness  of  Olaf          217 

Nor  could  I  doubt  that  whatever  it  was,  within 
that  shining  nucleus  was  something  sentient; 
something  that  had  will  and  energy,  and  in  some 
awful,  supernormal  fashion — intelligence! 

Another  trumpeting — a  sound  of  stones  opening 
— a  long,  low  wail  of  utter  anguish — something 
moved  shadowy  in  the  river  of  light,  and  slowly 
at  first,  then  ever  more  rapidly,  shapes  swam 
through  it.  There  were  half  a  score  of  them — 
girls  and  youths,  women  and  men.  The  Shining 
One  poised  itself,  regarded  them.  They  drew 
closer,  and  in  the  eyes  of  each  and  in  their  faces 
was  the  bud  of  that  awful  intermingling  of  emo 
tions,  of  joy  and  sorrow,  ecstasy  and  terror,  that 
I  had  seen  in  full  blossom  on  Throckmartin's. 

The  Thing  began  again  its  murmurings — now 
infinitely  caressing,  coaxing — like  the  song  of  a 
siren  from  some  witched  star!  And  the  bell- 
sounds  rang  out — compellingly,  calling — calling — 
calling 

I  saw  Olaf  lean  far  out  of  his  place;  saw,  half- 
consciously,  at  Lugur's  signal,  three  of  the  dwarfs 
creep  in  and  take  places,  unnoticed,  behind  him. 

Now  the  first  of  the  figures  rushed  upon  the 
dais — and  paused.  It  was  the  girl  who  had  been 
brought  before  Yolara  when  the  gnome  named 
Songar  was  driven  into  the  nothingness !  With  all 
the  quickness  of  light  a  spiral  of  the  Shining  One 
stretched  out  and  encircled  her. 

At  its  touch  there  was  an  infinitely  dreadful 
shrinking  and,  it  seemed,  a  simultaneous  hurling 


218  The  Moon  Pool 

of  herself  into  its  radiance.  As  it  wrapped  its 
swirls  around  her,  permeated  her — the  crystal 
chorus  burst  forth — tumultuously ;  through  and 
through  her  the  radiance  pulsed.  Began  than 
that  infinitely  dreadful,  but  infinitely  glorious, 
rhythm  they  called  the  dance  of  the  Shining  One. 
And  as  the  girl  swirled  within  its  sparkling  mists 
another  and  another  flew  into  its  embrace,  until, 
at  last,  the  dais  was  an  incredible  vision;  a  mad 
star's  Witches'  Sabbath;  an  altar  of  white  faces 
and  bodies  gleaming  through  living  flame;  trans 
fused  with  rapture  insupportable  and  horror  that 
was  hellish — and  ever,  radiant  plumes  and  spirals 
expanding,  the  core  of  the  Shining  One  waxed — • 
growing  greater — as  it  consumed,  as  it  drew  into 
and  through  itself  the  life-force  of  these  lost  ones ! 

So  they  spun,  interlaced — and  there  began  to 
pulse  from  them  life,  vitality,  as  though  the  very 
essence  of  nature  was  filling  us.  Dimly  I  recog 
nized  that  what  I  was  beholding  was  vampirism 
inconceivable!  The  banked  tiers  chanted.  The 
mighty  sounds  pealed  forth ! 

It  was  a  Saturnalia  of  demigods ! 

Then,  whirling,  bell-notes  storming,  the  Shining 
One  withdrew  slowly  from  the  dais  down  the  ramp, 
still  embracing,  still  interwoven  with  those  who  had 
thrown  themselves  into  its  spirals.  They  drifted 
with  it  as  though  half-carried  in  dreadful  dance; 
white  faces  sealed — forever — into  that  semblance 
of  those  who  held  within  linked  God  and  devil — I 
covered  my  eyes ! 


The  Madness  of  Olaf          219 

I  heard  a  gasp  from  O'Keefe;  opened  my  eyes 
and  sought  his;  saw  the  wildness  vanish  from 
them  as  he  strained  forward.  Olaf  had  leaned 
far  out,  and  as  he  did  so  the  dwarfs  beside  him 
caught  him,  and  whether  by  design  or  through  his 
own  swift,  involuntary  movement,  thrust  him 
half  into  the  Dweller's  path.  The  Dweller 
paused  in  its  gyrations — seemed  to  watch  him. 
The  Norseman's  face  was  crimson,  his  eyes  blazing. 
He  threw  himself  back  and,  with  one  defiant 
shout,  gripped  one  of  the  dwarfs  about  the  middle 
and  sent  him  hurtling  through  the  air,  straight 
at  the  radiant  Thing!  A  whirling  mass  of  legs 
and  arms,  the  dwarf  flew — then  in  mid-flight 
stopped  as  though  some  gigantic  invisible  hand 
had  caught  him,  and — was  dashed  down  upon  the 
platform  not  a  yard  from  the  Shining  One! 

Like  a  broken  spider  he  moved — feebly — once, 
twice.  From  the  Dweller  shot  a  shimmering 
tentacle — touched  him — recoiled.  Its  crystal  tin- 
klings  changed  into  an  angry  chiming.  From  all 
about — jewelled  stalls  and  jet  peak — came  a  sigh 
of  incredulous  horror. 

Lugur  leaped  forward.  On  the  instant  Larry 
was  over  the  low  barrier  between  the  pillars, 
rushing  to  the  Norseman's  side.  And  even  as  they 
ran  there  was  another  wild  shout  from  Olaf,  and 
he  hurled  himself  out,  straight  at  the  throat  of 
the  Dweller ! 

But  before  he  could  touch  the  Shining  One, 
now  motionless — and  never  was  the  thing  more 


220  The  Moon  Pool 

horrible  than  then,  with  the  purely  human  sugges 
tion  of  surprise  plain  in  its  poise — Larry  had 
struck  him  aside. 

I  tried  to  follow — and  was  held  by  Rador.  He 
was  trembling — but  not  with  fear.  In  his  face 
was  incredulous  hope,  inexplicable  eagerness. 

"Wait!  "he  said.     "Wait!" 

The  Shining  One  stretched  out  a  slow  spiral, 
and  as  it  did  so  I  saw  the  bravest  thing  man  has 
ever  witnessed.  Instantly  O'Keefe  thrust  himself 
between  it  and  Olaf,  pistol  out.  The  tentacle 
touched  him,  and  the  dull  blue  of  his  robe  flashed 
out  into  blinding,  intense  azure  light.  From  the 
automatic  in  his  gloved  hand  came  three  quick 
bursts  of  flame  straight  into  the  Thing.  The 
Dweller  drew  back;  the  bell-sounds  swelled. 

Lugur  paused,  his  hand  darted  up,  and  in  it  was 
one  of  the  silver  Keth  cones.  But  before  he  could 
flash  it  upon  the  Norseman,  Larry  had  unlooped 
his  robe,  thrown  its  fold  over  Olaf,  and,  holding 
him  with  one  hand  away  from  the  Shining  One, 
thrust  with  the  other  his  pistol  into  the  dwarf's 
stomach.  His  lips  moved,  but  I  could  not  hear 
what  he  said.  But  Lugur  understood,  for  his 
hand  dropped. 

Now  Yolara  was  there — all  this  had  taken  barely 
more  than  five  seconds.  She  thrust  herselr  be 
tween  the  three  men  and  the  Dweller.  She  spoke 
to  it — and  the  wild  buzzing  died  down;  the  gay 
crystal  tinklings  burst  forth  again.  The  Thing 
murmured  to  her — began  to  whirl — faster,  faster — 


The  Madness  of  Olaf          221 

passed  down  the  ivory  pier,  out  upon  the  waters, 
bearing  with  it,  meshed  in  its  light,  the  sacrifices — 
swept  on  ever  more  swiftly,  triumphantly  and  turn 
ing,  turning,  with  its  ghastly  crew,  vanished  through 
the  Veil! 

Abruptly  the  polychromatic  path  snapped  out. 
The  silver  light  poured  in  upon  us.  From  all  the 
amphitheatre  arose  a  clamour,  a  shouting.  Mar- 
akinoff,  his  eyes  staring,  was  leaning  out,  listen 
ing.  Unrestrained  now  by  Rador,  I  vaulted  the 
wall  and  rushed  forward.  But  not  before  I  had 
heard  the  green  dwarf  murmur: 

"There  is  something  stronger  than  the  Shining 
One!  Two  things — yea — a  strong  heart — and 
hate!" 

Olaf,  panting,  eyes  glazed,  trembling,  shrank 
beneath  my  hand. 

"The  devil  that  took  my  Helma!"  I  heard  him 
whisper.  "The  Shining  Devil!" 

"Both  these  men,"  Lugur  was  raging,  "they 
shall  dance  with  the  Shining  One.  And  this  one, 
too."  He  pointed  at  me  malignantly. 

"This  man  is  mine,"  said  the  priestess,  and  her 
voice  was  menacing.  She  rested  her  hand  on 
Larry's  shoulder.  "He  shall  not  dance.  No — 
nor  his  friend.  I  have  told  you  I  care  not  for  this 
one!"  She  pointed  to  Olaf. 

"Neither  this  man,  nor  this,"  said  Larry, 
"shall  be  harmed.  This  is  my  word,  Yolara!" 

"Even  so,"  she  answered  quietly,   "my  lord!" 

I  saw  Marakinoff  stare  at  O'Keefe  with  a  new 


222  The  Moon  Pool 

and  curiously  speculative  interest.  Lugur's  eyes 
grew  hellish ;  he  raised  his  arms  as  though  to  strike 
her.  Larry's  pistol  prodded  him  rudely  enough. 

"No  rough  stuff  now,  kid!"  said  O'Keefe  in 
English.  The  red  dwarf  quivered,  turned — 
caught  a  robe  from  a  priest  standing  by,  and 
threw  it  over  himself.  The  ladala,  shouting, 
gesticulating,  fighting  with  the  soldiers,  were 
jostling  down  from  the  tiers  of  jet. 

"Come!"  commanded  Yolara — her  eyes  rested 
upon  Larry.  "Your  heart  is  great,  indeed — my 
lord!"  she  murmured;  and  her  voice  was  very 
sweet.  "Come!" 

"This  man  conies  with  us,  Yolara, "  said  O'Keefe 
pointing  to  Olaf . 

"Bring  him,"  she  said.  "Bring  him — only  tell 
him  to  look  no  more  upon  me  as  before!"  she 
added  fiercely. 

Beside  her  the  three  of  us  passed  along  the  stalls, 
where  sat  the  fair-haired,  now  silent,  at  gaze,  as 
though  in  the  grip  of  some  great  doubt.  Silently 
Olaf  strode  beside  me.  Rador  had  disappeared. 
Down  the  stairway,  through  the  hall  of  turquoise 
mist,  over  the  rushing  sea-stream  we  went  and 
stood  beside  the  wall  through  which  we  had 
entered.  The  white-robed  ones  had  gone. 

Yolara  pressed;  the  portal  opened.  We  stepped 
upon  the  car;  she  took  the  lever;  we  raced  through 
the  faintly  luminous  corridor  to  the  house  of  the 
priestess. 

And  one  thing  now  I  knew  sick  at  heart  and 


The  Madness  of  Olaf          223 

soul  the  truth  had  come  to  me — no  more  need  to 
search  for  Throckmartin.  Behind  that  Veil,  in  the 
lair  of  the  Dweller,  dead-alive  like  those  we  had  just 
seen  swim  in  its  shining  train  was  he,  and  Edith, 
Stanton  and  Thora  and  Olaf  Huldricksson's  wife! 

The  car  came  to  rest ;  the  portal  opened ;  Yolara 
leaped  out  lightly,  beckoned  and  flitted  up  the 
corridor.  She  paused  before  an  ebon  screen.  At 
a  touch  it  vanished,  revealing  an  entrance  to  a 
small  blue  chamber,  glowing  as  though  cut  from 
the  heart  of  some  gigantic  sapphire;  bare,  save 
that  in  its  centre,  upon  a  low  pedestal,  stood  a 
great  globe  fashioned  from  milky  rock-crystal; 
upon  its  surface  were  faint  tracings  as  of  seas  and 
continents,  but,  if  so,  either  of  some  other  world  or 
of  this  world  in  immemorial  past,  for  in  no  way  did 
they  resemble  the  mapped  coast  lines  of  our  earth. 

Poised  upon  the  globe,  rising  from  it  out  into 
space,  locked  in  each  other's  arms,  lips  to  lips, 
were  two  figures,  a  woman  and  a  man,  so  exquisite, 
so  lifelike,  that  for  the  moment  I  failed  to  realize 
that  they,  too,  were  carved  of  the  crystal.  And 
before  this  shrine — for  nothing  else  could  it  be,  I 
knew — three  slender  cones  raised  themselves :  one 
of  purest  white  flame,  one  of  opalescent  water, 
and  the  third  of — moonlight!  There  was  no 
mistaking  them,  the  height  of  a  tall  man  each 
stood — but  how  water,  flame,  and  light  were  held 
so  evenly,  so  steadily  in  their  spire-shapes,  I  could 
not  tell. 

Yolara  bowed  lowly — once,  twice,  thrice.     She 


224  The  Moon  Pool 

turned  to  O'Keefe,  nor  by  slightest  look  or  gesture 
betrayed  she  knew  others  were  there  than  he. 
The  blue  eyes  wide,  searching,  unfathomable,  she 
drew  close;  put  white  hands  on  his  shoulders, 
looked  down  into  his  very  soul. 

"My  lord,"  she  murmured.  "Now  listen  well 
for  I,  Yolara,  give  you  three  things — myself, 
and  the  Shining  One,  and  the  power  that  is  the 
Shining  One's — yea,  and  still  a  fourth  thing  that 
is  all  three — power  over  all  upon  that  world  from 
whence  you  came !  These,  my  lord,  ye  shall  have. 
I  swear  it" — she  turned  toward  the  altar — uplifted 
her  arms — "by  Siya  and  by  Siyana,  and  by  the 
flame,  by  the  water,  and  by  the  light!"1 

1 1  have  no  space  here  even  to  outline  the  eschatology  of  this 
people,  nor  to  catalogue  their  pantheon.  Siya  and  Siyana  typified 
worldly  love.  Their  ritual  was,  however,  singularly  free  from 
those  degrading  elements  usually  found  in  love-cults.  Priests  and 
priestesses  of  all  cults  dwelt  in  the  immense  seven-terraced  struc 
ture,  of  which  the  jet  amphitheatre  was  the  water  side.  The 
symbol,  icon,  representation,  of  Siya  and  Siyana — the  globe  and 
the  up-striving  figures — typified  earthly  love,  feet  bound  to 
earth,  but  eyes  among  the  stars.  Hell  or  heaven  I  never  heard 
formulated,  nor  their  equivalents;  unless  that  existence  in  the 
Shining  One's  domain  could  serve  for  either.  Over  all  this  was 
Thanaroa,  remote,  unheeding,  but  still  maker  and  ruler  of  all — 
an  absentee  First  Cause  personified '  Thanaroa  seemed  to  be  the 
one  article  of  belief  in  the  creed  of  the  soldiers — Rador,  with  his 
reverence  for  the  Ancient  Ones,  was  an  exception.  Whatever 
there  was,  indeed,  of  high,  truly  religious  impulse  among  the 
Murians,  this  far,  High  God  had.  I  found  this  exceedingly  in 
teresting,  because  it  had  long  been  my  theory — to  put  the  matter 
in  the  shape  of  a  geometrical  formula — that  the  real  attractive 
ness  of  gods  to  man  increases  uniformly  according  to  the  square 
of  their  distance.— W.  T.  G. 


The  Madness  of  Olaf          225 

Her  eyes  grew  purple  dark. 

"Let  none  dare  to  take  you  from  me!  Nor  ye 
go  from  me  unbidden ! "  she  whispered  fiercely. 

Then  swiftly,  still  ignoring  us,  she  threw  her 
arms  about  O'Keefe,  pressed  her  white  body  to 
his  breast,  lips  raised,  eyes  closed,  seeking  his. 
O'Keefe's  arms  tightened  around  her,  his  head 
dropped  lips  seeking,  finding  hers — passionately! 
From  Olaf  came  a  deep  indrawn  breath  that  was 
almost  a  groan.  But  not  in  my  heart  could  I  find 
blame  for  the  Irishman ! 

The  priestess  opened  eyes  now  all  misty  blue, 
thrust  him  back,  stood  regarding  him.  O'Keefe, 
dead-white,  raised  a  trembling  hand  to  his  face. 

"And  thus  have  I  sealed  my  oath,  O  my  lord!" 
she  whispered.  For  the  first  time  she  seemed  to 
recognize  our  presence,  stared  at  us  a  moment, 
then  through  us,  and  turned  to  O'Keefe. 

' '  Go,  now ! ' '  she  said.  ' '  Soon  Rador  shall  come  for 
you.  Then — well,  after  that  let  happen  what  will ! ' ' 

She  smiled  once  more  at  him — so  sweetly; 
turned  toward  the  figures  upon  the  great  globe; 
sank  upon  her  knees  before  them.  Quietly  we 
crept  away;  still  silent,  made  our  way  to  the  little 
pavilion.  But  as  we  passed  we  heard  a  tumult 
from  the  green  roadway;  shouts  of  men,  now  and 
then  a  woman's  scream.  Through  a  rift  in  the 
garden  I  glimpsed  a  jostling  crowd  on  one  of  the 
bridges :  green  dwarfs  struggling  with  the  ladala — 
and  all  about  droned  a  humming  as  of  a  giant  hive 
disturbed! 


226  The  Moon  Pool 

Larry  threw  himself  down  upon  one  of  the  divans, 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  dropped  them  to 
catch  in  Olaf's  eyes  troubled  reproach,  looked  at 
me. 

"/  couldn't  help  it,"  he  said,  half  defiantly — 
half -miserably.  "God,  what  a  woman!  I  could 
n't  help  it  I" 

"Larry,"  I  asked.  "Why  didn't  you  tell  her 
you  didn't  love  her — then?" 

He  gazed  at  me — the  old  twinkle  back  in  his 
eye. 

"Spoken  like  a  scientist,  Doc!"  he  exclaimed. 
"I  suppose  if  a  burning  angel  struck  you  out  of 
nowhere  and  threw  itself  about  you,  you  would 
most  dignifiedly  tell  it  you  didn't  want  to  be 
burned.  For  God's  sake,  don't  talk  nonsense, 
Goodwin!"  he  ended,  almost  peevishly. 

"Evil!  Evil!"  The  Norseman's  voice  was 
deep,  nearly  a  chant.  "All  here  is  of  evil:  Troll- 
dom  and  Helvede  it  is,  Jal  And  that  she  djaevelsk 
of  beauty — what  is  she  but  harlot  of  that  shining 
devil  they  worship.  I,  Olaf  Huldricksson,  know 
what  she  meant  when  she  held  out  to  you  power 
over  all  the  world,  Jal — as  if  the  world  had  not 
devils  enough  in  it  now!" 

"What?"  The  cry  came  from  both  O'Keefe 
and  myself  at  once. 

Olaf  made  a  gesture  of  caution,  relapsed  into 
sullen  silence.  There  were  footsteps  on  the  path, 
and  into  sight  came  Rador — but  a  Rador  changed. 
Gone  was  every  vestige  of  his  mockery;  curiously 


The  Madness  of  Olaf          227 

solemn,  he  saluted  O'Keefe  and  Olaf  with  that 
salute  which,  before  this,  I  had  seen  given  only  to 
Yolara  and  to  Lugur.  There  came  a  swift  quicken 
ing  of  the  tumult — died  away.  He  shrugged 
mighty  shoulders. 

"The  ladala  are  awake!"  he  said.  "So  much 
for  what  two  brave  men  can  do!"  He  paused 
thoughtfully.  "Bones  and  dust  jostle  not  each 
other  for  place  against  the  grave  wall!"  he  added 
oddly.  "But  if  bones  and  dust  have  revealed  to 
them  that  they  still — live ' 

He  stopped  abruptly,  eyes  seeking  the  glob*? 
that  bore  and  sent  forth  speech.  * 

1  I  find  that  I  have  neglected  to  explain  the  working  of  these 
interesting  mechanisms  that  were  telephonic,  dictaphonic,  tele 
graphic  in  one.  I  must  assume  that  my  readers  are  familiar  with 
the  receiving  apparatus  of  wireless  telegraphy,  which  must  be 
"tuned"  by  the  operator  until  its  own  vibratory  quality  is  in 
exact  harmony  with  the  vibrations — the  extremely  rapid  impacts 
— of  those  short  electric  wave-lengths  we  call  Hertzian,  and  which 
carry  the  wireless  messages.  I  must  assume  also  that  they  are 
familiar  with  the  elementary  fact  of  physics  that  the  vibrations 
of  light  and  sound  are  interchangeable.  The  hearing-talking 
globes  utilize  both  these  principles,  and  with  consummate  sim 
plicity.  The  light  with  which  they  shone  was  produced  by  an 
atomic  "motor  "  within  their  base,  similar  to  that  which  activated 
the  merely  illuminating  globes.  The  composition  of  the  phonic 
spheres  gave  their  surfaces  an  acute  sensitivity  and  resonance. 
In  conjunction  with  its  energizing  power,  the  metal  set  up  what  is 
called  a  "field  of  force, "  which  linked  it  with  every  particle  of  its 
kind  no  matter  how  distant.  When  vibrations  of  speech  impinged 
upon  the  resonant  surface  its  rhythmic  light- vibrations  were 
broken,  just  as  a  telephone  transmitter  breaks  an  electric  current. 
Simultaneously  these  light-vibrations  were  changed  into  sound — 
on  the  surfaces  of  all  spheres  tuned  to  that  particular  instrument. 


228  The  Moon  Pool 

"The  Afyo  Maie  has  sent  me  to  watch  over 
you  till  she  summons  you, "  he  announced  clearly. 
"There  is  to  be  a — feast.  You,  Larree,  you 
Goodwin,  are  to  come.  I  remain  here  with — 
Olaf." 

"No  harm  to  him!"  broke  in  O'Keefe  sharply. 
Rador  touched  his  heart,  his  eyes. 

"By  the  Ancient  Ones,  and  by  my  love  for  you, 
and  by  what  you  twain  did  before  the  Shining 
One — I  swear  it!"  he  whispered. 

Rador  clapped  palms;  a  soldier  came  round 
the  path,  in  his  grip  a  long  flat  box  of  polished 
wood.  The  green  dwarf  took  it,  dismissed  him, 
threw  open  the  lid. 

"Here  is  your  apparel  for  the  feast,  Larree, "  he 
said,  pointing  to  the  contents. 

O'Keefe  stared,  reached  dov/n  and  drew  out  a 
white,  shimmering,  softly  metallic,  long-sleeved 
tunic,  a  broad,  silvery  girdle,  leg  swathings  of  the 
same  argent  material,  and  sandals  that  seemed 
to  be  cut  out  from  silver.  He  made  a  quick 
gesture  of  angry  dissent. 

"Nay,  Larree!"  muttered  the  dwarf.  "Wear 
them — I  counsel  it — I  pray  it — ask  me  not  why?" 
he  went  on  swiftly,  looking  again  at  the  globe. 


The  "crawling"  colours  which  showed  themselves  at  these  times 
were  literally  the  voice  of  the  speaker  in  its  spectrum  equivalent. 
While  usually  the  sounds  produced  required  considerable  famil 
iarity  with  the  apparatus  to  be  understood  quickly,  they  could, 
on  occasion,  be  made  startlingly  loud  and  clear — as  I  was  soon  to 
realize.— W.  T.  G. 


The  Madness  of  Olaf          229 

O'Keefe,  as  I,  was  impressed  by  his  earnestness. 
The  dwarf  made  a  curiously  expressive  pleading 
gesture.  O'Keefe  abruptly  took  the  garments; 
passed  into  the  room  of  the  fountain. 

' '  The  Shining  One  dances  not  again  ? "     I  asked. 

"No,"  he  said.  "No"— he  hesitated— "it  is 
the  usual  feast  that  follows  the — sacrament! 
Lugur — and  Double  Tongue,  who  came  with  you, 
will  be  there, "  he  added  slowly. 

"Lugur — "  I  gasped  in  astonishment.  "After 
what  happened — he  will  be  there?" 

"Perhaps  because  of  what  happened,  Goodwin, 
my  friend,"  he  answered — his  eyes  again  full  of 
malice;  "and  there  will  be  others — friends  of 
Yolara — friends  of  Lugur — and  perhaps  another" 
— his  voice  was  almost  inaudible — "one  whom 
they  have  not  called — "  He  halted,  half -fear 
fully,  glancing  at  the  globe;  put  finger  to  lips  and 
spread  himself  out  upon  one  of  the  couches. 

"Strike  up  the  band" — came  O'Keefe's  voice — 
' '  here  comes  the  hero ! ' ' 

He  strode  into  the  room.  I  am  bound  to  say 
that  the  admiration  in  Rador's  eyes  was  reflected 
in  my  own,  and  even,  if  involuntarily,  in  Olaf's. 

"A  son  of  Siyana!"  whispered  Rador. 

He  knelt,  took  from  his  girdle-pouch  a  silk- 
wrapped  something,  unwound  it — and,  still  kneel 
ing,  drew  out  a  slender  poniard  of  gleaming  white 
metal,  hilted  with  the  blue  stones ;  he  thrust  it  in 
to  O'Keefe's  girdle;  then  gave  him  again  the  rare 
salute. 


230  The  Moon  Pool 

"Come, "  he  ordered  and  took  us  to  the  head  of 
the  pathway. 

"Now,"  he  said  grimly,  "let  the  Silent  Ones 
show  their  power — if  they  still  have  it!" 

And  with  this  strange  benediction,  he  turned 
back. 

"For  God's  sake,  Larry,"  I  urged  as  we  ap 
proached  the  house  of  the  priestess,  "you'll  be 
careful!" 

He  nodded — but  I  saw  with  a  little  deadly  pang 
of  apprehension  in  my  heart  a  puzzled,  lurking 
doubt  within  his  eyes. 

As  we  ascended  the  serpent  steps  Marakinoff 
appeared.  He  gave  a  signal  to  our  guards — and 
I  wondered  what  influence  the  Russian  had  at 
tained,  for  promptly,  without  question,  they  drew 
aside.  At  me  he  smiled  amiably. 

"Have  you  found  your  friends  yet?"  he  went 
on — and  now  I  sensed  something  deeply  sinister 
in  him.  "No!  It  is  too  bad!  Well,  don't  give 
up  hope."  He  turned  to  O'Keefe. 

"Lieutenant,  I  would  like  to  speak  to  you — 
alone!" 

"I've  no  secrets  from  Goodwin,"  answered 
O'Keefe. 

"So?"  queried  Marakinoff,  suavely.  He  bent, 
whispered  to  Larry. 

The  Irishman  started,  eyed  him  with  a  certain 
shocked  incredulity,  then  turned  to  me. 

"Just  a  minute,  Doc!"  he  said,  and  I  caught 
the  suspicion  of  a  wink.  They  drew  aside,  out  of 


The  Madness  of  Olaf          231 

ear-shot.  The  Russian  talked  rapidly.  Larry 
was  all  attention.  Marakinoff 's  earnestness  be 
came  intense;  O'Keefe  interrupted — appeared  to 
question.  Marakinoff  glanced  at  me  and  as  his 
gaze  shifted  from  O'Keefe,  I  saw  a  flame  of  rage 
and  horror  blaze  up  in  the  latter 's  eyes.  At  last 
the  Irishman  appeared  to  consider  gravely; 
nodded  as  though  he  had  arrived  at  some  decision, 
and  Marakinoff  thrust  his  hand  to  him. 

And  only  I  could  have  noticed  Larry's  shrinking, 
his  microscopic  hesitation  before  he  took  it,  and 
his  involuntary  movement,  as  though  to  shake  off 
something  unclean,  when  the  clasp  had  ended. 

Marakinoff,  without  another  look  at  me, 
turned  and  went  quickly  within.  The  guards 
took  their  places.  I  looked  at  Larry  inquiringly. 

"Don't  ask  a  thing  now,  Doc!"  he  said  tensely. 
"Wait  till  we  get  home.  But  we've  got  to  get 
damned  busy  and  quick — I'll  tell  you  that 
now " 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE    TEMPTING  OF  LARRY 

WE  paused  before  thick  curtains,  through  which 
came  the  faint  murmur  of  many  voices.  They 
parted;  out  came  two — ushers,  I  suppose,  they 
were — in  cuirasses  and  kilts  that  reminded  me 
somewhat  of  chain-mail — the  first  armour  of  any 
kind  here  that  I  had  seen.  They  held  open  the 
folds. 

The  chamber,  on  whose  threshold  we  stood,  was 
far  larger  than  either  anteroom  or  hall  of  audience. 
Not  less  than  three  hundred  feet  long  and  half 
that  in  depth,  from  end  to  end  of  it  ran  two  huge 
semi-circular  tables,  paralleling  each  other,  divided 
by  a  wide  aisle,  and  heaped  with  flowers,  with 
fruits,  with  viands  unknown  to  me,  and  glittering 
with  crystal  flagons,  beakers,  goblets  of  as  many 
hues  as  the  blooms.  On  the  gay-cushioned  couches 
that  flanked  the  tables,  lounging  luxuriously,  were 
scores  of  the  fair-haired  ruling  class  and  there 
rose  a  little  buzz  of  admiration,  oddly  mixed  with  a 
half -startled  amaze,  as  their  gaze  fell  upon  O'Keefe 
in  all  his  silvery  magnificence.  Everywhere  the 
light-giving  globes  sent  their  roseate  radiance. 

232 


The  Tempting  of  Larry        233 

The  cuirassed  dwarfs  led  us  through  the  aisle. 
Within  the  arc  of  the  inner  half -circle  was  another 
glittering  board,  an  oval.  But  of  those  seated 
there,  facing  us — I  had  eyes  for  only  one — Yolara! 
She  swayed  up  to  greet  O'Keefe — and  she  was 
like  one  of  those  white  lily  maids,  whose  beauty 
Hoang-Ku,  the  sage,  says  made  the  Gobi  first 
a  paradise,  and  whose  lusts  later  the  burned- 
out  desert  that  it  is.  She  held  out  hands  to 
Larry,  and  on  her  face  was  passion — unashamed, 
unhiding. 

She  was  Circe — but  Circe  conquered.  Webs 
of  filmiest  white  clung  to  the  rose-leaf  body. 
Twisted  through  the  corn-silk  hair  a  threaded 
circlet  of  pale  sapphires  shone ;  but  they  were  pale 
beside  Yolara' s  eyes.  O'Keefe  bent,  kissed  her 
hands,  something  more  than  mere  admiration 
flaming  from  him.  She  saw — and,  smiling,  drew 
him  down  beside  her. 

It  came  to  me  that  of  all,  only  these  two,  Yolara 
and  O'Keefe,  were  in  white — and  I  wondered; 
then  with  a  tightening  of  nerves  ceased  to  wonder 
as  there  entered — Lugur!  He  was  all  in  scarlet, 
and  as  he  strode  forward  a  silence  fell — a  tense, 
strained  silence. 

His  gaze  turned  upon  Yolara,  rested  upon 
O'Keefe,  and  instantly  his  face  grew — dreadful — 
there  is  no  other  word  than  that  for  it.  Mar- 
akinoff  leaned  forward  from  the  centre  of  the 
table,  near  whose  end  I  sat,  touched  and  whispered 
to  him  swiftly.  With  appalling  effort  the  red 


234  The  Moon  Pool 

dwarf  controlled  himself;  he  saluted  the  priestess 
ironically,  I  thought ;  took  his  place  at  the  further 
end  of  the  oval.  And  now  I  noted  that  the  figures 
between  were  the  seven  of  that  Council  of  which  the 
Shining  One's  priestess  and  Voice  were  the  heads. 
The  tension  relaxed,  but  did  not  pass — as  though 
a  storm-cloud  should  turn  away,  but  still  lurk, 
threatening. 

My  gaze  ran  back.  This  end  of  the  room  was 
draped  with  the  exquisitely  coloured,  graceful 
curtains  looped  with  gorgeous  garlands.  Between 
curtains  and  table,  where  sat  Larry  and  the  nine,  a 
circular  platform,  perhaps  ten  yards  in  diameter, 
raised  itself  a  few  feet  above  the  floor,  its  gleaming 
surface  half -covered  with  the  luminous  petals, 
fragrant,  delicate. 

On  each  side,  below  it,  were  low  carven  stools. 
The  curtains  parted  and  softly  entered  girls  bear 
ing  their  flutes,  their  harps,  the  curiously  emotion- 
exciting,  octaved  drums.  They  sank  into  their 
places.  They  touched  their  instruments;  a  faint, 
languorous  measure  throbbed  through  the  rosy 
air. 

The  stage  was  set!    What  was  to  be  the  play? 

Now  about  the  tables  passed  other  dusky- 
haired  maids,  fair  bosoms  bare,  their  scanty 
kirtles  looped  high,  pouring  out  the  wines  for  the 
f casters. 

My  eyes  sought  O'Keefe.  Whatever  it  had 
been  that  Marakinoff  had  said,  clearly  it  now 
filled  his  mind — even  to  the  exclusion  of  the 


The  Tempting  of  Larry        235 

wondrous  woman  beside  him.  His  eyes  were 
stern,  cold — and  now  and  then,  as  he  turned  them 
toward  the  Russian,  filled  with  a  curious  specula 
tion.  Yolara  watched  him,  frowned,  gave  a  low 
order  to  the  Hebe  behind  her. 

The  girl  disappeared,  entered  again  with  a  ewer 
that  seemed  cut  of  amber.  The  priestess  poured 
from  it  into  Larry's  glass  a  clear  liquid  that  shook 
with  tiny  sparkles  of  light.  She  raised  the  glass 
to  her  lips,  handed  it  to  him.  Half -smiling,  half- 
abstractedly,  he  took  it,  touched  his  own  lips 
where  hers  had  kissed;  drained  it.  A  nod  from 
Yolara  and  the  maid  refilled  his  goblet. 

At  once  there  was  a  swift  transformation  in  the 
Irishman.  His  abstraction  vanished;  the  stern 
ness  fled ;  his  eyes  sparkled.  He  leaned  caressingly 
toward  Yolara;  whispered.  Her  blue  eyes  flashed 
triumphantly;  her  chiming  laughter  rang.  She 
raised  her  own  glass — but  within  it  was  not  that 
clear  drink  that  filled  Larry's!  And  again  he 
drained  his  own;  and,  lifting  it,  full  once  more, 
caught  the  baleful  eyes  of  Lugur,  and  held  it 
toward  him  mockingly.  Yolara  swayed  close — 
alluring,  tempting.  He  arose,  face  all  reckless 
gaiety,  rollicking  deviltry. 

"A  toast!"  he  cried  in  English,  "to  the  Shining 
One — and  may  the  hell  where  it  belongs  soon  claim 
it!" 

He  had  used  their  own  word  for  their  god — all 
else  had  been  in  his  own  tongue,  and  so,  fortunately, 
they  did  not  understand.  But  the  contempt  in 


236  The  Moon  Pool 

his  action  they  did  recognize — and  a  dead,  a 
fearful  silence  fell  upon  them  all.  Lugur's  eyes 
blazed,  little  sparks  of  crimson  in  their  green. 
The  Priestess  reached  up,  caught  at  O'Keefe. 
He  seized  the  soft  hand;  caressed  it;  his  gaze  grew 
far  away,  sombre. 

"The  Shining  One."  He  spoke  low.  "An' 
now  again  I  see  the  faces  of  those  who  dance  with 
it.  It  is  the  Fires  of  Mora — come,  God  alone 
knows  how — from  Erin — to  this  place.  The 
Fires  of  Mora!"  He  contemplated  the  hushed 
folk  before  him;  and  then  from  his  lips  came  that 
weirdest,  most  haunting  of  the  lyric  legends  of 
Erin — the  Curse  of  Mora : 

"The  fretted  fires  of  Mora  blew  o'er  him  in  the  night; 
He  thrills  no  more  to  loving,  nor  weeps  for  past 

delight. 

For  when  those  flames  have  bitten,  both  grief  and 
joy  take  flight — " 

Again  Yolara  tried  to  draw  him  down  beside 
her;  and  once  more  he  gripped  her  hand.  His 
eyes  grew  fixed — he  crooned: 

"And  through  the  sleeping  silence  his  feet  must  track 

the  tune, 

When  the  world  is  barred  and  speckled    with  silver 
of  the  moon — " 

He  stood,  swaying,  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
laughing,  let  the  priestess  have  her  way;  drained 
again  the  glass. 


The  Tempting  of  Larry        237 

And  now  my  heart  was  cold,  indeed — for  what 
hope  was  there  left  with  Larry  mad,  wild  drunk! 

The  silence  was  unbroken — elfin  women  and 
dwarfs  glancing  furtively  at  each  other.  But  now 
Yolara  arose,  face  set,  eyes  flashing  grey. 

"Hear  you,  the  Council,  and  you,  Lugur — and 
all  who  are  here ! ' '  she  cried.  ' '  Now  I ,  the  priestess 
of  the  Shining  One,  take,  as  is  my  right,  my  mate. 
And  this  is  he!"  She  pointed  down  upon  Larry. 
He  glanced  up  at  her. 

"Can't  quite  make  out  what  you  say,  Yolara," 
he  muttered  thickly.  "But  say  anything — you 
like — I  love  your  voice ! " 

I  turned  sick  with  dread.  Yolara's  hand  stole 
softly  upon  the  Irishman's  curls  caressingly. 

"You  know  the  law,  Yolara."  Lugur's  voice 
was  flat,  deadly.  "You  may  not  mate  with  other 
than  your  own  kind.  And  this  man  is  a  stranger 
— a  barbarian — food  for  the  Shining  One ! ' '  Liter 
ally,  he  spat  the  phrase. 

' '  No,  not  of  our  kind — Lugur — higher ! "  Yolara 
answered  serenely.  "Lo,  a  son  of  Siya  and  of 
Siyana!" 

"A  lie!"  roared  the  red  dwarf.     "A  lie!" 

"The  Shining  One  revealed  it  to  me!"  said 
Yolara  sweetly.  "And  if  ye  believe  not,  Lugur — 
go  ask  of  the  Shining  One  if  it  be  not  truth ! " 

There  was  bitter,  nameless  menace  in  those  last 
words — and  whatever  their  hidden  message  to 
Lugur,  it  was  potent.  He  stood,  choking,  face 
hell-shadowed  —  Marakinoff  leaned  out  again, 


238  The  Moon  Pool 

whispered.  The  red  dwarf  bowed,  now  wholly 
ironically;  resumed  his  place  and  his  silence. 
And  again  I  wondered,  icy-hearted,  what  was 
the  power  the  Russian  had  so  to  sway  Lugur. 

"What  says  the  Council?"  Yolara  demanded, 
turning  to  them. 

Only  for  a  moment  they  consulted  among 
themselves.  Then  the  woman,  whose  face  was  a 
ravaged  shrine  of  beauty,  spoke. 

"The  will  of  the  priestess  is  the  will  of  the 
Council!"  she  answered. 

Defiance  died  from  Yolara's  face;  she  looked 
down  at  Larry  tenderly.  He  sat  swaying,  croon 
ing. 

"Bid  the  priests  come,"  she  commanded,  then 
turned  to  the  silent  room.  "By  the  rites  of  Siya 
and  Siyana,  Yolara  takes  their  son  for  her  mate!" 
And  again  her  hand  stole  down  possessingly,  serpent 
soft,  to  the  drunken  head  of  the  O'Keefe. 

The  curtains  parted  widely.  Through  them 
filed,  two  by  two,  twelve  hooded  figures  clad  in 
flowing  robes  of  the  green  one  sees  in  forest  vistas 
of  opening  buds  of  dawning  spring.  Of  each  pair 
one  bore  clasped  to  breast  a  globe  of  that  milky 
crystal  in  the  sapphire  shrine-room;  the  other  a 
harp,  small,  shaped  somewhat  like  the  ancient 
clarsach  of  the  Druids. 

Two  by  two  they  stepped  upon  the  raised 
platform,  placed  gently  upon  it  each  their  globe; 
and  two  by  two  crouched  behind  them.  They 
formed  now  a  star  of  six  points  about  the  petalled 


The  Tempting  of  Larry        239 

dais,  and,  simultaneously,  they  drew  from  their 
faces  the  covering  cowls. 

I  half -rose — youth  and  maidens  these  of  the 
fair-haired;  and  youths  and  maids  more  beautiful 
than  any  of  those  I  had  yet  seen — for  upon  their 
faces  was  little  of  that  disturbing  mockery  to 
which  I  have  been  forced  so  often,  because  of  the 
deep  impression  it  made  upon  me,  to  refer.  The 
ashen-gold  of  the  maiden  priestesses'  hair  was 
wound  about  their  brows  in  shining  coronals. 
The  pale  locks  of  the  youths  were  clustered  within 
circlets  of  translucent,  glimmering  gems  like  moon 
stones.  And  then,  crystal  globe  alternately  before 
and  harp  alternately  held  by  youth  and  maid, 
they  began  to  sing. 

What  was  that  song,  I  do  not  know — nor  ever 
shall.  Archaic,  ancient  beyond  thought,  it  seemed 
— not  with  the  ancientness  of  things  that  for  un 
counted  ages  have  been  but  wind-driven  dust. 
Rather  was  it  the  ancientness  of  the  golden  youth 
of  the  world,  love  lilts  of  earth  younglings,  with 
light  of  new-born  suns  drenching  them,  chorals 
of  young  stars  mating  in  space;  murmurings  of 
April  gods  and  goddesses.  A  languor  stole 
through  me.  The  rosy  lights  upon  the  tripods 
began  to  die  away,  and  as  they  faded  the  milky 
globes  gleamed  forth  brighter,  ever  brighter. 
Yolara  rose,  stretched  a  hand  to  Larry,  led  him 
through  the  sextuple  groups,  and  stood  face  to 
face  with  him  in  the  centre  of  their  circle. 

The  rose-light  died;  all  that  immense  chamber 


240  The  Moon  Pool 

was  black,  save  for  the  circle  of  the  glowing  spheres. 
Within  this  their  milky  radiance  grew  brighter — 
brighter.  The  song  whispered  away.  A  throb 
bing  arpeggio  dripped  from  the  harps,  and  as 
the  notes  pulsed  out,  up  from  the  globes,  as  though 
striving  to  follow,  pulsed  with  them  tips  of  moon- 
fire  cones,  such  as  I  had  seen  before  Yolara's  altar. 
Weirdly,  caressingly,  compellingly  the  harp  notes 
throbbed  in  repeated,  re-repeated  theme,  holding 
within  itself  the  same  archaic  golden  quality  I  had 
noted  in  the  singing.  And  over  the  moon  flame 
pinnacles  rose  higher ! 

Yolara  lifted  her  arms;  within  her  hands  were 
clasped  O'Keefe's.  She  raised  them  above  their 
two  heads  and  slowly,  slowly  drew  him  with  her 
into  a  circling,  graceful  step,  tendrillings  delicate 
as  the  slow  spirallings  of  twilight  mist  upon  some 
still  stream. 

As  they  swayed  the  rippling  arpeggios  grew 
louder,  and  suddenly  the  slender  pinnacles  of 
moon  fire  bent,  dipped,  flowed  to  the  floor,  crept 
in  a  shining  ring  around  those  two — and  began  to 
rise,  a  gleaming,  glimmering,  enchanted  barrier — 
rising,  ever  rising — hiding  them! 

With  one  swift  movement  Yolara  unbound  her 
circlet  of  pale  sapphires,  shook  loose  the  waves  of 
her  silken  hair.  It  fell,  a  rippling,  wondrous  cas 
cade,  veiling  both  her  and  O'Keefe  to  their  girdles 
— and  now  the  shining  coils  of  moon  fire  had  crept 
to  their  knees — was  circling  higher — higher. 

And  ever  despair  grew  deeper  in  my  soul ! 


The  Tempting  of  Larry       241 

What  was  that!  I  started  to  my  feet,  and  all 
around  me  in  the  blackness  I  heard  startled  motion. 
From  without  came  a  blaring  of  trumpets,  the 
sound  of  running  men,  loud  murmurings.  The 
tumult  drew  closer.  I  heard  cries  of  "Lakla! 
Lakla!"  Now  it  was  at  the  very  threshold  and 
within  it,  oddly,  as  though — punctuating — the 
clamour,  a  deep-toned,  almost  abyssmal,  booming 
sound — thunderously  bass  and  reverberant. 

Abruptly  the  harpings  ceased;  the  moon  fires 
shuddered,  fell,  and  began  to  sweep  back  into  the 
crystal  globes;  Yolara's  swaying  form  grew  rigid, 
every  atom  of  it  listening.  She  threw  aside  the 
veiling  cloud  of  hair,  and  in  the  gleam  of  the  last 
retreating  spirals  her  face  glared  out  like  some  old 
Greek  mask  of  tragedy. 

The  sweet  lips  that  even  at  their  sweetest  could 
never  lose  their  delicate  cruelty,  had  no  sweetness 
now.  They  were  drawn  into  a  square — inhuman 
as  that  of  the  Medusa;  in  her  eyes  were  the  fires 
of  the  pit,  and  her  hair  seemed  to  writhe  like  the 
serpent  locks  of  that  Gorgon  whose  mouth  she 
had  borrowed ;  all  her  beauty  was  transformed  in 
to  a  nameless  thing — hideous,  inhuman,  blasting! 
If  this  was  the  true  soul  of  Yolara  springing  to  her 
face,  then,  I  thought,  God  help  us  in  very  deed ! 

I  wrested  my  gaze  away  to  O'Keefe.  All 
drunkenness  gone,  himself  again,  he  was  staring 
down  at  her,  and  in  his  eyes  were  loathing  and 
horror  unutterable.  So  they  stood — and  the  light 
fled. 

16 


242  The  Moon  Pool 

Only  for  a  moment  did  the  darkness  hold.  With 
lightning  swiftness  the  blackness  that  was  the 
chamber's  other  wall  vanished.  Through  a  portal 
open  between  grey  screens,  the  silver  sparkling 
radiance  poured. 

And  through  the  portal  marched,  two  by  two, 
incredible,  nightmare  figures — frog-men,  giants, 
taller  by  nearly  a  yard  than  even  tall  O'Keefe! 
Their  enormous  saucer  eyes  were  irised  by  wide 
bands  of  green-flecked  red,  in  which  the  phos 
phorescence  flickered.  Their  long  muzzles,  lips 
half-open  in  monstrous  grin,  held  rows  of  glisten 
ing,  slender,  lancet  sharp  fangs.  Over  the  glaring 
eyes  arose  a  horny  helmet,  a  carapace  of  black 
and  orange  scales,  studded  with  foot-long  lance- 
headed  horns. 

They  lined  themselves  like  soldiers  on  each  side 
of  the  wide  table  aisle,  and  now  I  could  see  that 
their  horny  armour  covered  shoulders  and  backs, 
ran  across  the  chest  in  a  knobbed  cuirass,  and  at 
wrists  and  heels  jutted  out  into  curved,  murderous 
spurs.  The  webbed  hands  and  feet  ended  in 
yellow,  spade-shaped  claws. 

They  carried  spears,  ten  feet,  at  least,  in  length, 
the  heads  of  which  were  pointed  cones,  glistening 
with  that  same  covering,  from  whose  touch  of 
swift  decay  I  had  so  narrowly  saved  Rador. 

They  were  grotesque,  yes — more  grotesque  than 
anything  I  had  ever  seen  or  dreamed,  and  they 
were — terrible ! 

And  then,  quietly,  through  their  ranks  came — a 


The  Tempting  of  Larry       243 

girl!  Behind  her,  enormous  pouch  at  his  throat 
swelling  in  and  out  menacingly,  in  one  paw  a 
treelike,  spike-studded  mace,  a  frog-man,  huger 
than  any  of  the  others,  guarding.  But  of  him  I 
caught  but  a  fleeting,  involuntary  impression — 
all  my  gaze  was  for  her. 

For  it  was  she  who  had  pointed  out  to  us  the 
way  from  the  peril  of  the  Dweller's  lair  on  Nan- 
Tauach.  And  as  I  looked  at  her,  I  marvelled  that 
ever  could  I  have  thought  the  priestess  more 
beautiful.  Into  the  eyes  of  O'Keefe  rushed  joy 
and  an  utter  abasement  of  shame. 

And  from  all  about  came  murmurs — edged  with 
anger,  half -incredulous,  tinged  with  fear: 

"Lakla!" 

"Lakla!" 

"The  handmaiden!" 

She  halted  close  beside  me.  From  firm  little 
chin  to  dainty  buskined  feet  she  was  swathed  in 
the  soft  robes  of  dull,  almost  coppery  hue.  The 
left  arm  was  hidden,  the  right  free  and  gloved. 
Wound  tight  about  it  was  one  of  the  vines  of  the 
sculptured  wall  and  of  Lugur's  circled  signet-ring. 
Thick,  a  vivid  green,  its  five  tendrils  ran  between 
her  fingers,  stretching  out  five  flowered  heads  that 
gleamed  like  blossoms  cut  from  gigantic,  glowing 
rubies. 

So  she  stood  contemplating  Yolara.  Then 
drawn  perhaps  by  my  gaze,  she  dropped  her  eyes 
upon  me;  golden,  translucent,  with  tiny  flecks  of 
amber  in  their  aureate  irises,  the  soul  that  looked 


244  The  Moon  Pool 

through  them  was  as  far  removed  from  that 
flaming  out  of  the  priestess's  as  zenith  is  above 
nadir. 

I  noted  the  low,  broad  brow,  the  proud  little 
nose,  the  tender  mouth,  and  the  soft — sunlight — 
glow  that  seemed  to  transfuse  the  delicate  skin. 
And  suddenly  in  the  eyes  dawned  a  smile — sweet, 
friendly,  a  touch  of  roguishness,  profoundly 
reassuring  in  its  all  humanness.  I  felt  my  heart 
expand  as  though  freed  from  fetters,  a  recru 
descence  of  confidence  in  the  essential  reality  of 
things — as  though  in  nightmare  the  struggling  con 
sciousness  should  glimpse  some  familiar  face  and 
know  the  terrors  with  which  it  strove  were  but 
dreams.  And  involuntarily  I  smiled  back  at  her. 

She  raised  her  head  and  looked  again  at  Yolara, 
contempt  and  a  certain  curiosity  in  her  gaze;  at 
O'Keefe — and  through  the  softened  eyes  drifted 
swiftly  a  shadow  of  sorrow,  and  on  its  fleeting 
wings  deepest  interest,  and  hovering  over  that  a 
naive  approval  as  reassuringly  human  as  had  been 
her  smile. 

She  spoke,  and  her  voice,  deep-timbred,  liquid 
gold  as  was  Yolara 's  all  silver,  was  subtly  the 
synthesis  of  all  the  golden  glowing  beauty  of  her. 

"The  Silent  Ones  have  sent  me,  O  Yolara, "  she 
said.  "And  this  is  their  command  to  you — that 
you  deliver  to  me  to  bring  before  them  three  of 
the  four  strangers  who  have  found  their  way  here. 
For  him  there  who  plots  with  Lugur  " — she  pointed 
at  Marakinoff,  and  I  saw  Yolara  start — "they 


The  Tempting  of  Larry        245 

have  no  need.  Into  his  heart  the  Silent  Ones 
have  looked ;  and  Lugur  and  you  may  keep  him, 
Yolara!" 

There  was  honeyed  venom  in  the  last  words. 

Yolara  was  herself  now ;  only  the  edge  of  shrillness 
on  her  voice  revealed  her  wrath  as  she  answered. 

"And  whence  have  the  Silent  Ones  gained  power 
to  command,  choya  ?" 

This  last,  I  knew,  was  a  very  vulgar  word;  I 
had  heard  Rador  use  it  in  a  moment  of  anger  to 
one  of  the  serving  maids,  and  it  meant,  approxi 
mately,  "kitchen  girl,"  "scullion."  Beneath  the 
insult  and  the  acid  disdain,  the  blood  rushed  up 
under  Lakla's  ambered  ivory  skin. 

"Yolara" — her  voice  was  low — "of  no  use  is  it 
to  question  me.  I  am  but  the  messenger  of  the 
Silent  Ones.  And  one  thing  only  am  I  bidden 
to  ask  you — do  you  deliver  to  me  the  three 
strangers?" 

Lugur  was  on  his  feet;  eagerness,  sardonic 
delight,  sinister  anticipation  thrilling  from  him — 
and  my  same  glance  showed  Marakinoff ,  crouched, 
biting  his  finger-nails,  glaring  at  the  Golden 
Girl. 

"No!"  Yolara  spat  the  word.  "No!  Now  by 
Thanaroa  and  by  the  Shining  One,  no!"  Her 
eyes  blazed,  her  nostrils  were  wide,  in  her  fair 
throat  a  little  pulse  beat  angrily.  "You,  Lakla — 
take  you  my  message  to  the  Silent  Ones.  Say  to 
them  that  I  keep  this  man" — she  pointed  to 
Larry — "because  he  is  mine.  Say  to  them  that 


246  The  Moon  Pool 

I  keep  the  yellow-haired  one  and  him" — she 
pointed  to  me — "because  it  pleases  me. 

"Tell  them  that  upon  their  mouths  I  place  my 
foot,  so!" — she  stamped  upon  the  dais  viciously — 
"and  that  in  their  faces  I  spit!" — and  her  action 
was  hideously  snakelike.  "And  say  last  to  them, 
you  handmaiden,  that  if  you  they  dare  send  to 
Yolara  again,  she  will  feed  you  to  the  Shining 
One!  Now — go!" 

The  handmaiden's  face  was  white. 

"Not  unforeseen  by  the  three  was  this,  Yolara, " 
she  replied .  ' '  And  did  you  speak  as  you  have  spoken 
then  was  I  bidden  to  say  this  to  you."  Her  voice 
deepened.  "Three  tal  have  you  to  take  counsel, 
Yolara.  And  at  the  end  of  that  time  these  things 
must  you  have  determined — either  to  do  or  not  to 
do:  first,  send  the  strangers  to  the  Silent  Ones; 
second,  give  up,  you  and  Lugur  and  all  of  you, 
that  dream  you  have  of  conquest  of  the  world 
without;  and,  third,  foreswear  the  Shining  One! 
And  if  you  do  not  one  and  all  these  things,  then  are 
you  done,  your  cup  of  life  broken,  your  wine  of 
life  spilled.  Yea,  Yolara,  for  you  and  the  Shining 
One,  Lugur  and  the  Nine  and  all  those  here  and 
their  kind  shall  pass!  This  say  the  Silent  Ones, 
'Surely  shall  all  of  ye  pass  and  be  as  though  never 
had  ye  been ! ' ' 

Now  a  gasp  of  rage  and  fear  arose  from  all 
those  around  me — but  the  priestess  threw  back 
her  head  and  laughed  loud  and  long.  Into  the 
silver  sweet  chiming  of  her  laughter  clashed  that  of 


The  Tempting  of  Larry       247 

Lugur — and  after  a  little  the  nobles  took  it  up, 
till  the  whole  chamber  echoed  with  their  mirth. 
O'Keefe,  lips  tightening,  moved  toward  the  hand 
maiden,  and  almost  imperceptibly,  but  peremp 
torily,  she  waved  him  back. 

"Those  are  great  words — great  words  indeed, 
choya,"  shrilled  Yolara  at  last;  and  again  Lakla 
winced  beneath  the  word.  "Lo,  for  laya  upon 
laya,  the  Shining  One  has  been  freed  from  the 
Three;  and  for  laya  upon  laya  they  have  sat  help 
less,  rotting.  Now  I  ask  you  again — whence 
comes  their  power  to  lay  their  will  upon  me,  and 
whence  comes  their  strength  to  wrestle  with  the 
Shining  One  and  the  beloved  of  the  Shining  One?" 

And  again  she  laughed — and  again  Lugur  and 
all  the  fair-haired  joined  in  her  laughter. 

Into  the  eyes  of  Lakla  I  saw  creep  a  doubt,  a 
wavering;  as  though  deep  within  her  the  founda 
tions  of  her  own  belief  were  none  too  firm. 

She  hesitated,  turning  upon  O'Keefe  gaze  in 
which  rested  more  than  suggestion  of  appeal  I 
And  Yolara  saw,  too,  for  she  flushed  with  triumph, 
stretched  a  finger  toward  the  handmaiden. 

"Look!"  she  cried.  "Look!  Why,  even  she 
does  not  believe ! "  Her  voice  grew  silk  of  silver — 
merciless,  cruel.  "Now  am  I  minded  to  send 
another  answer  to  the  Silent  Ones.  Yea!  But 
not  by  you,  Lakla;  by  these" — she  pointed  to  the 
frog-men,  and,  swift  as  light,  her  hand  darted  into 
her  bosom,  bringing  forth  the  little  shining  cone 
of  death. 


248  The  Moon  Pool 

But  before  she  could  level  it  the  Golden  Girl 
had  released  that  hidden  left  arm  and  thrown 
over  her  face  a  fold  of  the  metallic  swathings. 
Swifter  than  Yolara,  she  raised  the  arm  that  held 
the  vine — and  now  I  knew  this  was  no  inert 
blossoming  thing. 

It  was  alive ! 

It  writhed  down  her  arm,  and  its  five  rubescent 
flower  heads  thrust  out  toward  the  priestess — 
vibrating,  quivering,  held  in  leash  only  by  the  light 
touch  of  the  handmaiden  at  its  very  end. 

From  the  swelling  throat  pouch  of  the  monster 
behind  her  came  a  succession  of  the  reverberant 
boomings.  The  frog-men  wheeled,  raised  their 
lances,  levelled  them  at  the  throng.  Around  the 
reaching  ruby  flowers  a  faint  red  mist  swiftly  grew. 

The  silver  cone  dropped  from  Yolara's  rigid 
fingers;  her  eyes  grew  stark  with  horror;  all  her 
unearthly  loveliness  fled  from  her;  she  stood  pale- 
lipped.  The  handmaiden  dropped  the  protecting 
veil — and  now  it  was  she  who  laughed. 

"It  would  seem,  then,  Yolara,  that  there  is  a 
thing  of  the  Silent  Ones  ye  fear ! ' '  she  said.  ' '  Well 
— the  kiss  of  the  Yekta  I  promise  you  in  return 
for  the  embrace  of  your  Shining  One." 

She  looked  at  Larry,  long,  searchingly,  and 
suddenly  again  with  all  that  effect  of  sunlight 
bursting  into  dark  places,  her  smile  shone  upon 
him.  She  nodded,  half  gaily;  looked  down  upon 
me,  the  little  merry  light  dancing  in  her  eyes; 
waved  her  hand  to  me. 


The  Tempting  of  Larry        249 

She  spoke  to  the  giant  frog-man.  He  wheeled 
behind  her  as  she  turned,  facing  the  priestess,  club 
upraised,  fangs  glistening.  His  troop  moved  not 
a  jot,  spears  held  high.  Lakla  began  to  pass 
slowly — almost,  I  thought,  tauntingly — and  as 
she  reached  the  portal  Larry  leaped  from  the  dais, 

"Alanna!"  he  cried.  "You'll  not  be  leavin' 
me  just  when  I've  found  you!" 

In  his  excitement  he  spoke  in  his  own  tongue, 
the  velvet  brogue  appealing.  Lakla  turned,  con 
templated  O'Keefe,  hesitant,  unquestionably  long 
ingly,  irresistibly  like  a  child  making  up  her  mind 
whether  she  dared  or  dared  not  take  a  delectable 
something  offered  her. 

"I  go  with  you, "  said  O'Keefe,  this  time  in  her 
own  speech.  "Come  on,  Doc!"  He  reached 
out  a  hand  to  me. 

But  now  Yolara  spoke.  Life  and  beauty  had 
flowed  back  into  her  face,  and  in  the  purple  eyes 
all  her  hosts'  of  devils  were  gathered. 

"Do  you  forget  what  I  promised  you  before 
Siya  and  Siyana?  And  do  you  think  that  you 
can  leave  me — me — as  though  I  were  a  choya — 
like&er."  She  pointed  to  Lakla.  "Do  you " 

"Now,  listen,  Yolara,"  Larry  interrupted  al 
most  plaintively.  "No  promise  has  passed  from 
me  to  you — and  why  would  you  hold  me?"  He 
passed  unconsciously  into  English.  "Be  a  good 
sport,  Yolara,"  he  urged.  "You  have  got  a  very 
devil  of  a  temper,  you  know,  and  so  have  I;  and 
we'd  be  really  awfully  uncomfortable  together. 


250  The  Moon  Pool 

And  why  don't  you  get  rid  of  that  devilish  pet  of 
yours,  and  be  good!" 

She  looked  at  him,  puzzled.  Marakinoff  leaned 
over,  translated  to  Lugur.  The  red  dwarf  smiled 
maliciously,  drew  near  the  priestess;  whispered 
to  her  what  was  without  doubt  as  near  as  he 
could  come  in  the  Murian  to  Larry's  own  very 
colloquial  phrases. 

Yolara's  lips  writhed. 

"Hear  me,  Lakla!"  she  cried.  "Now  would 
J  not  let  you  take  this  man  from  me  were  I  to 
dwell  ten  thousand  laya  in  the  agony  of  the  Yekta's 
kiss.  This  I  swear  to  you — by  Thanaroa,  by  my 
heart,  and  by  my  strength — and  may  my  strength 
wither,  my  heart  rot  in  my  breast,  and  Thanaroa 
forget  me  if  I  do!" 

"Listen,  Yolara — "  began  O'Keefe  again. 

"Be  silent,  you!"  It  was  almost  a  shriek. 
And  her  hand  again  sought  in  her  breast  for  the 
cone  of  rhythmic  death. 

Lugur  touched  her  arm,  whispered  again.  The 
glint  of  guile  shone  in  her  eyes;  she  laughed  softly, 
relaxed. 

"The  Silent  Ones,  Lakla,  bade  you  say  that  they 
— allowed — me  three  tal  to  decide,"  she  said 
suavely.  "Go  now  in  peace,  Lakla,  and  say  that 
Yolara  has  heard,  and  that  for  the  three  tal  they — 
allow — her  she  will  take  council." 

The  handmaiden  hesitated. 

"The  Silent  Ones  have  said  it,"  she  answered 
at  last.  "Stay  you  here,  strangers" — the  long 


The  Tempting  of  Larry       251 

lashes  drooped  as  her  eyes  met  O'Keefe's  and  a 
hint  of  blush  was  in  her  cheeks — "stay  you  here, 
strangers,  till  then.  But,  Yolara,  see  you  on  that 
heart  and  strength  you  have  sworn  by  that  they 
come  to  no  harm — else  that  which  you  have 
invoked  shall  come  upon  you  swiftly  indeed — and 
that  /  promise  you,"  she  added. 

Their  eyes  met,  clashed,  burned  into  each  other 
— black  flame  from  Abaddon  and  golden  flame 
from  Paradise. 

"Remember!"  said  Lakla,  and  passed  through 
the  portal.  The  gigantic  frog-man  boomed  a 
thunderous  note  of  command,  his  grotesque 
guards  turned  and  slowly  followed  their  mistress; 
and  last  of  all  passed  out  the  monster  with  the 
mace. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
LARRY'S  DEFIANCE 

A  CLAMOUR  arose  from  all  the  chamber;  stilled 
in  an  instant  by  a  motion  of  Yolara's  hand.  She 
stood  silent,  regarding  O'Keefe  with  something 
other  now  than  blind  wrath;  something  half 
regretful,  half  beseeching.  But  the  Irishman's 
control  was  gone. 

"Yolara, " — his  voice  shook  with  rage,  and  he 
threw  caution  to  the  wind — "now  hear  me.  I 
go  where  I  will  and  when  I  will.  Here  shall  we 
stay  until  the  time  she  named  is  come.  And  then 
we  follow  her,  whether  you  will  or  not.  And  if 
any  should  have  thought  to  stop  us — tell  them  of 
that  flame  that  shattered  the  vase,"  he  added 
grimly. 

The  wistfulness  died  out  of  her  eyes,  leaving 
them  cold.  But  no  answer  made  she  to  him. 

"What  Lakla  has  said,  the  Council  must  con 
sider,  and  at  once."  The  priestess  was  facing  the 
nobles.  "Now,  friends  of  mine,  and  friends  of 
Lugur,  must  all  feud,  all  rancour,  between  us  end." 
She  glanced  swiftly  at  Lugur.  "The  ladala  are 
stirring,  and  the  Silent  Ones  threaten.  Yet  fear 

2S2 


Larry's  Defiance  253 

not — for  are  we  not  strong  under  the  Shining  One? 
And  now — leave  us." 

Her  hand  dropped  to  the  table,  and  she  gave, 
evidently,  a  signal,  for  in  marched  a  dozen  or 
more  of  the  green  dwarfs. 

"Take  these  two  to  their  place,"  she  com 
manded,  pointing  to  us. 

The  green  dwarfs  clustered  about  us.  Without 
another  look  at  the  priestess  O'Keefe  marched 
beside  me,  between  them,  from  the  chamber. 
And  it  was  not  until  we  had  reached  the  pillared 
entrance  that  Larry  spoke. 

"I  hated  to  talk  like  that  to  a  woman,  Doc," 
he  said,  "and  a  pretty  woman,  at  that.  But 
first  she  played  me  with  a  marked  deck,  and  then 
not  only  pinched  all  the  chips,  but  drew  a  gun 
on  me.  What  the  hell! — she  nearly  had  me — 
married — to  her.  I  don't  know  what  the  stuff 
was  she  gave  me;  but,  take  it  from  me,  if  I  had 
the  recipe  for  that  brew  I  could  sell  it  for  a  thou 
sand  dollars  a  jolt  at  Forty-Second  and  Broadway. 

"One  jigger  of  it,  and  you  forget  there  is  a 
trouble  in  the  world;  three  of  them,  and  you  forget 
there  is  a  world.  No  excuse  for  it,  Doc;  and  I 
don't  care  what  you  say  or  what  Lakla  may  say — 
it  wasn't  my  fault,  and  I  don't  hold  it  up  against 
myself  for  a  damn." 

"I  must  admit  that  I'm  a  bit  uneasy  about  her 
threats,"  I  said,  ignoring  all  this.  He  stopped 
abruptly. 

"What're  you  afraid  of  ?" 


254  The  Moon  Pool 

"Mostly,"  I  answered  dryly,  "I  have  no  desire 
to  dance  with  the  Shining  One!" 

"Listen  to  me,  Goodwin."  He  took  up  his 
walk  impatiently.  "I've  all  the  love  and  admira 
tion  for  you  in  the  world ;  but  this  place  has  got 
your  nerve.  Hereafter  one  Larry  O'Keefe,  of 
Ireland  and  the  little  old  U.  S.  A.,  leads  this  party. 
Nix  on  the  tremolo  stop,  nix  on  the  superstition! 
I'm  the  works.  Get  me  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  I  get  you!"  I  exclaimed  testily  enough. 
"But  to  use  your  own  phrase,  kindly  can  the  re 
peated  references  to  superstition." 

"Why  should  I?"  He  was  almost  wrathful. 
"You  scientific  people  build  up  whole  philosophies 
on  the  basis  of  things  you  never  saw,  and  you 
scoff  at  people  who  believe  in  other  things  that 
you  think  they  never  saw  and  that  don't  come 
under  what  you  label  scientific.  You  talk  about 
paradoxes — why,  your  scientist,  who  thinks  he  is 
the  most  skeptical,  the  most  materialistic  aggrega 
tion  of  atoms  ever  gathered  at  the  exact  mathe 
matical  centre  of  Missouri,  has  more  blind  faith 
than  a  dervish,  and  more  credulity,  more  super 
stition,  than  a  cross-eyed  smoke  beating  it  past  a 
country  graveyard  in  the  dark  of  the  moon!" 

"Larry!"  I  cried,  dazed. 

"Olaf's  no  better,"  he  said.  "But  I  can  make 
allowances  for  him.  He's  a  sailor.  No,  sir.  What 
this  expedition  needs  is  a  man  without  superstition. 
And  remember  this.  The  leprechaun  promised 
that  I'd  have  full  warning  before  anything  hap- 


Larry's  Defiance  255 

pened.  And  if  we  do  have  to  go  out,  we'll  see  that 
banshee  bunch  clean  up  before  we  do,  and  pass  in  a 
blaze  of  glory.  And  don't  forget  it.  Hereafter — 
I'm — in — charge ! ' ' 

By  this  time  we  were  before  our  pavilion;  and 
neither  of  us  in  a  very  amiable  mood  I'm  afraid. 
Rador  was  awaiting  us  with  a  score  of  his  men. 

"Let  none  pass  in  here  without  authority — 
and  let  none  pass  out  unless  I  accompany  them," 
he  ordered  bruskly.  ' '  Summon  one  of  the  swiftest 
of  the  coria  and  have  it  wait  in  readiness,"  "he 
added,  as  though  by  afterthought. 

But  when  we  had  entered  and  the  screens  were 
drawn  together  his  manner  changed;  all  eagerness 
he  questioned  us.  Briefly  we  told  him  of  the 
happenings  at  the  feast,  of  Lakla's  dramatic 
interruption,  and  of  what  had  followed. 

"Three  tal,"  he  said  musingly;  "three  tal  the 
Silent  Ones  have  allowed — and  Yolara  agreed." 
He  sank  back,  silent  and  thoughtful. x 

"Ja!"  It  was  Olaf.  "Ja!  I  told  you  the 
Shining  Devil's  mistress  was  all  evil.  Ja  I  Now 
I  begin  again  that  tale  I  started  when  he  came" — 
he  glanced  toward  the  preoccupied  Rador.  "And 
tell  him  not  what  I  say  should  he  ask.  For  I 
trust  none  here  in  Troldom,  save  the  Jomfrau — 
the  White  Virgin ! 

"After  the  oldster  was  adsprede" — Olaf  once 
more  used  that  expressive  Norwegian  word  for 

1 A  tal  in  Muria  is  the  equivalent  of  thirty  hours  of  earth 
surface  time. — W.  T.  G. 


256  The  Moon  Pool 

the  dissolving  of  Songar — "I  knew  that  it  was  a 
time  for  cunning.  I  said  to  myself,  'If  they  think 
I  have  no  ears  to  hear,  they  will  speak ;  and  it  may 
be  I  will  find  a  way  to  save  my  Helma  and  Dr. 
Goodwin's  friends,  too.'  Ja,  and  they  did  speak. 

"The  red  Trolde  asked  the  Russian  how  came 
it  he  was  a  worshipper  of  Thanaroa."  I  could  not 
resist  a  swift  glance  of  triumph  toward  O'Keefe. 
"And  the  Russian,"  rumbled  Olaf,  "said  that  all 
his  people  worshipped  Thanaroa  and  had  fought 
against  the  other  nations  that  denied  him. 

"And  then  we  had  come  to  Lugur's  palace. 
They  put  me  in  rooms,  and  there  came  to  me 
men  who  rubbed  and  oiled  me  and  loosened  my 
muscles.  The  next  day  I  wrestled  with  a  great 
dwarf  they  called  Valdor.  He  was  a  mighty  man, 
and  long  we  struggled,  and  at  last  I  broke  his  back. 
And  Lugur  was  pleased,  so  that  I  sat  with  him  at 
feast  and  with  the  Russian,  too.  And  again,  not 
knowing  that  I  understood  them,  they  talked. 

"The  Russian  had  gone  fast  and  far.  They 
talked  of  Lugur  as  emperor  of  all  Europe,  and 
Marakinoff  under  him.  They  spoke  of  the  green 
light  that  shook  life  from  the  oldster;  and  Lugur 
said  that  the  secret  of  it  had  been  the  Ancient 
Ones'  and  that  the  Council  had  not  too  much 
of  it.  But  the  Russian  said  that  among  his 
race  were  many  wise  men  who  could  make  more 
once  they  had  studied  it. 

"And  the  next  day  I  wrestled  with  a  great 
dwarf  named  Tahola,  mightier  far  than  Valdor. 


Larry's  Defiance  257 

Him  I  threw  after  a  long,  long  time,  and  his  back 
also  I  broke.  Again  Lugur  was  pleased.  And 
again  we  sat  at  table,  he  and  the  Russian  and  I. 
This  time  they  spoke  of  something  these  Trolde 
have  which  opens  up  a  Svaelc — abysses  into  which 
all  in  its  range  drops  up  into  the  sky!" 

"What!"  I  exclaimed. 

"I  know  about  them,"  said  Larry.     "Wait!" 

"Lugur  had  drunk  much,"  went  on  Olaf.  "He 
was  boastful.  The  Russian  pressed  him  to  show 
this  thing.  After  a  while  the  red  one  went  out 
and  came  back  with  a  little  golden  box.  He 
and  the  Russian  went  into  the  garden.  I  fol 
lowed  them.  There  was  a  lille  Hoj — a  mound — 
of  stones  in  that  garden  on  which  grew  flowers 
and  trees. 

"Lugur  pressed  upon  the  box,  and  a  spark  no 
bigger  than  a  sand  grain  leaped  out  and  fell  beside 
the  stones.  Lugur  pressed  again,  and  a  blue  light 
shot  from  the  box  and  lighted  on  the  spark.  The 
spark  that  had  been  no  bigger  than  a  grain  of 
sand  grew  and  grew  as  the  blue  struck  it.  And 
then  there  was  a  sighing,  a  wind  blew — and  the 
stones  and  the  flowers  and  the  trees  were  not. 
They  were  forsvinde — vanished! 

"Then  Lugur,  who  had  been  laughing,  grew 
quickly  sober;  for  he  thrust  the  Russian  back — 
far  back.  And  soon  down  into  the  garden  came 
tumbling  the  stones  and  the  trees,  but  broken  and 
shattered,  and  falling  as  though  from  a  great 
height.  And  Lugur  said  that  of  this  something 


258  The  Moon  Pool 

they  had  much,  for  its  making  was  a  secret  handed 
down  by  their  own  forefathers  and  not  by  the 
Ancient  Ones. 

"They  feared  to  use  it,  he  said,  for  a  spark 
thrice  as  large  as  that  he  had  used  would  have 
sent  all  that  garden  falling  upward  and  might 
have  opened  a  way  to  the  outside  before — he  said 
just  this — 'before  we  are  ready  to  go  out  into  itT 

"The  Russian  questioned  much,  but  Lugur 
sent  for  more  drink  and  grew  merrier  and  threat 
ened  him,  and  the  Russian  was  silent  through  fear. 
Thereafter  I  listened  when  I  could,  and  little  more 
I  learned,  but  that  little  enough.  Ja!  Lugur  is 
hot  for  conquest;  so  Yolara  and  so  the  Council. 
They  tire  of  it  here  and  the  Silent  Ones  make 
their  minds  not  too  easy,  no,  even  though  they 
jeer  at  them !  And  this  they  plan — to  rule  our 
world  with  their  Shining  Devil." 

The  Norseman  was  silent  for  a  moment;  then 
voice  deep,  trembling 

"Troldom  is  awake;  Helvede  crouches  at  Earth 
Gate  whining  to  be  loosed  into  a  world  already 
devil  ridden!  And  we  are  but  three!" 

I  felt  the  blood  drive  out  of  my  heart.  But 
Larry's  was  the  fighting  face  of  the  O'Keefes  of  a 
thousand  years.  Rador  glanced  at  him,  arose, 
stepped  through  the  curtains;  returned  swiftly 
with  the  Irishman's  uniform. 

"Put  it  on,"  he  said,  bruskly;  again  fell  back 
into  his  silence  and  whatever  O'Keefe  had  been 
about  to  say  was  submerged  in  his  wild  and  joyful 


Larry's  Defiance  259 

whoop.  He  ripped  from  him  glittering  tunic  and 
leg  swathings. 

"Richard  is  himself  again!"  he  shouted;  and 
each  garment  as  he  donned  it,  fanned  his  old 
devil-may-care  confidence  to  a  higher  flame.  The 
last  scrap  of  it  on,  he  drew  himself  up  before  us. 

"Bow  down,  ye  divils!"  he  cried.  "Bang  your 
heads  on  the  floor  and  do  homage  to  Larry  the 
First,  Emperor  of  Great  Britain,  Autocrat  of  all 
Ireland,  Scotland,  England,  and  Wales,  and  adja 
cent  waters  and  islands!  Kneel,  ye  scuts,  kneel." 

"' Larry,"  I  cried,  "are  you  going  crazy?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  he  said.  "I'm  that  and  more 
if  Comrade  Marakmoff  is  on  the  level.  Whoop! 
Bring  forth  the  royal  jewels  an'  put  a  whole  new 
bunch  of  golden  strings  in  Tara's  harp  an'  down 
with  the  Sassenach  forever!  Whoop!" 

He  did  a  wild  jig. 

"Lord  how  good  the  old  togs  feel,"  he  grinned. 
"The  touch  of  'em  has  gone  to  my  head.  But 
it's  straight  stuff  I'm  telling  you  about  my  empire." 

He  sobered. 

"Not  that  it's  not  serious  enough  at  that.  A 
lot  that  Olaf's  told  us  I've  surmised  from  hints 
dropped  by  Yolara.  But  I  got  the  full  key  to  it 
from  the  Red  himself  when  he  stopped  me  just 
before — before" — he  reddened — "well,  before  I 
acquired  that  brand-new  brand  of  souse. 

"Maybe  he  had  a  hint — maybe  he  just  sur 
mised  that  I  knew  a  lot  more  than  I  did.  And 
he  thought  Yolara  and  I  were  going  to  be  loving 


260  The  Moon  Pool 

little  turtle  doves.  Also  he  figured  that  Yolara 
had  a  lot  more  influence  with  the  Unholy  Fire 
works  than  Lugur.  Also  that  being  a  woman 
she  could  be  more  easily  handled.  All  this  being 
so,  what  was  the  logical  thing  for  himself  to  do? 
Sure,  you  get  me,  Steve!  Throw  down  Lugur  and 
make  an  alliance  with  me!  So  he  calmly  offered 
to  ditch  the  red  dwarf  if  /  would  deliver  Yolara. 
My  reward  from  Russia  was  to  be  said  emperor 
ship!  Can  you  beat  it?  Good  Lord!" 

He  went  off  into  a  perfect  storm  of  laughter. 
But  not  to  me  in  the  light  of  what  Russia  has 
done  and  has  proved  herself  capable,  did  this 
thing  seem  at  all  absurd;  rather  in  it  I  sensed  the 
dawn  of  catastrophe  colossal. 

"And  yet,"  he  was  quiet  enough  now,  "I'm  a 
bit  scared.  They've  got  the  Keth  ray  and  those 
gravity-destroying  bombs " 

"Gravity-destroying  bombs!"  I  gasped. 

"Sure,"  he  said.  "The  little  fairy  that  sent 
the  trees  and  stones  kiting  up  from  Lugur's  garden. 
Marakinoff  licked  his  lips  over  them.  They 
cut  off  gravity,  just  about  as  the  shadow  screens 
cut  off  light — and  consequently  whatever 's  in 
their  range  goes  shooting  just  naturally  up  to 
the  moon 

"They  get  my  goat,  why  deny  it?"  went  on 
Larry.  "With  them  and  the  Keth  and  gentle 
invisible  soldiers  walking  around  assassinating  at 
will — well,  the  worst  Bolsheviki  are  only  puling 
babes,  eh  Doc? 


Larry's  Defiance  261 

"I  don't  mind  the  Shining  One,"  said  O'Keefe, 
"one  splash  of  a  down -town  New  York  high-pres 
sure  fire  hose  would  do  for  it !  But  the  others — are 
the  goods !  B  elieve  me ! " 

But  for  once  O'Keefe's  confidence  found  no 
echo  within  me.  Not  lightly,  as  he,  did  I  hold 
that  dread  mystery,  the  Dweller — and  a  vision 
passed  before  me,  a  vision  of  an  Apocalypse  un 
dreamed  by  the  Evangelist. 

A  vision  of  the  Shining  One  swirling  into  our 
world,  a  monstrous,  glorious  flaming  pillar  of  in 
carnate,  eternal  Evil — of  peoples  passing  through 
its  radiant  embrace  into  that  hideous,  unearthly 
life-in-death  which  I  had  seen  enfold  the  sacrifices 
— of  armies  trembling  into  dancing  atoms  of  dia 
mond  dust  beneath  the  green  ray's  rhythmic 
death — of  cities  rushing  out  into  space  upon  the 
wings  of  that  other  demoniac  force  which  Olaf 
had  watched  at  work — of  a  haunted  world  through 
which  the  assassins  of  the  Dweller's  court  stole 
invisible,  carrying  with  them  every  passion  of  hell 
— of  the  rallying  to  the  Thing  of  every  sinister 
soul  and  of  the  weak  and  the  unbalanced,  mystics 
and  carnivores  of  humanity  alike;  for  well  I  knew 
that,  once  loosed,  not  any  nation  could  hold 
this  devil-god  for  long  and  that  swiftly  its  blight 
would  spread ! 

And  then  a  world  that  was  all  colossal  reek  of 
cruelty  and  terror;  a  welter  of  lusts,  of  hatreds 
and  of  torment;  a  chaos  of  horror  in  which  the 
Dweller  waxing  ever  stronger,  the  ghastly  hordes 


262  The  Moon  Pool 

of  those  it  had  consumed  growing  ever  greater, 
wreaked  its  inhuman  will ! 

At  the  last  a  ruined  planet,  a  cosmic  plague, 
spinning  through  the  shuddering  heavens ;  its  ver 
dant  plains,  its  murmuring  forests,  its  meadows 
and  its  mountains  manned  only  by  a  countless 
crew  of  soulless,  mindless  dead-alive,  their  shells 
illumined  with  the  Dweller's  infernal  glory — and 
flaming  over  this  vampirized  earth  like  a  flare 
from  some  hell  far,  infinitely  far,  beyond  the 
reach  of  man's  farthest  flung  imagining — the 
Dweller ! 

Rador  jumped  to  his  feet;  walked  to  the  whis 
pering  globe.  He  bent  over  its  base ;  did  something 
with  its  mechanism;  beckoned  to  us.  The  globe 
swam  rapidly,  faster  than  ever  I  had  seen  it  before. 
A  low  humming  arose,  changed  into  a  murmur, 
and  then  from  it  I  heard  Lugur's  voice  clearly. 

"It  is  to  be  war  then?" 

There  was  a  chorus  of  assent — from  the  Council, 
I  thought. 

"I  will  take  the  tall  one  named — Larree."  It 
was  the  priestess's  voice.  ' '  After  the  three  tal,  you 
may  have  him,  Lugur,  to  do  with  as  you  will." 

"No!"  it  was  Lugur's  voice  again,  but  with  a 
rasp  of  anger.  "All  must  die." 

"He  shall  die,"  again  Yolara.  "But  I  would 
that  first  he  see  Lakla  pass — and  that  she  know 
what  is  to  happen  to  him." 

"No!"  I  started — for  this  was  Marakinofl. 
"Now  is  no  time,  Yolara,  for  one's  own  desires. 


Larry's  Defiance  263 

This  is  my  Council.  At  the  end  of  the  three  tal 
Lakla  will  come  for  our  answer.  Your  men  will 
be  in  ambush  and  they  will  slay  her  and  her  escort 
quickly  with  the  Keth.  But  not  till  that  is  done 
must  the  three  be  slain — and  then  quickly.  With 
Lakla  dead  we  shall  go  forth  to  the  Silent  Ones — 
and  I  promise  you  that  I  will  find  the  way  to 
destroy  them !" 

"  It  is  well ! "     It  was  Lugur. 

"It  is  well,  Yolara."  It  was  a  woman's  voice, 
and  I  knew  it  for  that  old  one  of  ravaged  beauty. 
"Cast  from  your  mind  whatever  is  in  it  for  this 
stranger — either  of  love  or  hatred.  In  this  the 
Council  is  with  Lugur  and  the  man  of  wisdom." 

There  was  a  silence.  Then  came  the  priestess's 
voice,  sullen  but — beaten. 

"It  is  well!" 

"Let  the  three  be  taken  now  by  Rador  to  the 
temple  and  given  to  the  High  Priest  Sator" — thus 
Lugur — "until  what  we  have  planned  comes  to 
pass." 

Rador  gripped  the  base  of  the  globe;  abruptly 
it  ceased  its  spinning.  He  turned  to  us  as  though 
to  speak  and  even  as  he  did  so  its  bell  note  sounded 
peremptorily  and  on  it  the  colour  films  began  to 
creep  at  their  accustomed  pace. 

"I  hear,"  the  green  dwarf  whispered.  "They 
shall  be  taken  there  at  once."  The  globe  grew 
silent.  He  stepped  toward  us. 

"You  have  heard,"  he  turned  to  us. 

"Not  on  your  life,  Rador, "  said  Larry.      "No- 


264  The  Moon  Pool 

thing  doing!"  And  then  in  the  Murian's  own 
tongue.  "We  follow  Lakla,  Rador.  And  you 
lead  the  way."  He  thrust  the  pistol  close  to  the 
green  dwarf's  side. 

Rador  did  not  move. 

"Of  what  use,  Larree?"  he  said,  quietly.  "Me 
you  can  slay — but  in  the  end  you  will  be  taken. 
Life  is  not  held  so  dear  in  Muria  that  my  men  out 
there  or  those  others  who  can  come  quickly  will 
let  you  by — even  though  you  slay  many.  And 
in  the  end  they  will  overpower  you." 

There  was  a  trace  of  irresolution  in  O'Keefe's 
face. 

"And,"  added  Rador,  "if  I  let  you  go  I  dance 
with  the  Shining  One — or  worse!" 

O'Keefe's  pistol  hand  dropped. 

"You're  a  good  sport,  Rador,  and  far  be  it  from 
me  to  get  you  in  bad,"  he  said.  "Take  us  to  the 
temple — when  we  get  there — well,  your  responsi 
bility  ends,  doesn't  it?" 

The  green  dwarf  nodded ;  on  his  face  a  curious 
expression — was  it  relief?  Or  was  it  emotion 
higher  than  this  ? 

He  turned  curtly. 

"Follow,"  he  said.  We  passed  out  of  that  gay 
little  pavilion  that  had  come  to  be  home  to  us  even 
in  this  alien  place.  The  guards  stood  at  attention. 

"You,  Sattoya,  stand  by  the  globe, "  he  ordered 
one  of  them.  "Should  the  Afyo  Maie  ask,  say 
that  I  am  on  my  way  with  the  strangers  even  as 
she  has  commanded." 


Larry's  Defiance  265 

We  passed  through  the  lines  to  the  corial  stand 
ing  like  a  great  shell  at  the  end  of  the  runway 
leading  into  the  green  road. 

"Wait  you  here,"  he  said  curtly  to  the  driver. 
The  green  dwarf  ascended  to  his  seat,  sought  the 
lever  and  we  swept  on — on  and  out  upon  the 
glistening  obsidian. 

Then  Rador  faced  us  and  laughed. 

"Larree,"  he  cried,  "I  love  you  for  that  spirit 
of  yours!  And  did  you  think  that  Rador  would 
carry  to  the  temple  prison  a  man  who  would  take 
the  chances  of  torment  upon  his  own  shoulders 
to  save  him?  Or  you,  Goodwin,  who  saved  him 
from  the  rotting  death  ?  For  what  did  I  take  the 
corial  or  lift  the  veil  of  silence  that  I  might  hear 
what  threatened  you " 

He  swept  the  corial  to  the  left,  away  from  the 
temple  approach. 

"I  am  done  with  Lugur  and  with  Yolara  and 
the  Shining  One! "  cried  Rador.  "My  hand  is  for 
you  three  and  for  Lakla  and  those  to  whom  she  is 
handmaiden!" 

The  shell  leaped  forward ;  seemed  to  fly. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  CASTING  OF  THE  SHADOW 

Now  we  were  racing  down  toward  that  last  span 
whose  ancientness  had  set  it  apart  from  all  the 
other  soaring  arches.  The  shell's  speed  slackened ; 
we  approached  warily. 

"We  pass  there?"  asked  O'Keefe. 

The  green  dwarf  nodded,  pointing  to  the  right 
where  the  bridge  ended  in  a  broad  platform  held 
high  upon  two  gigantic  piers,  between  which  ran 
a  spur  from  the  glistening  road.  Platform  and 
bridge  were  swarming  with  men-at-arms;  they 
crowded  the  parapets,  looking  down  upon  us 
curiously  but  with  no  evidence  of  hostility.  Rador 
drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief. 

"We  don't  have  to  break  our  way  through, 
then?"  There  was  disappointment  in  the  Irish 
man's  voice. 

"No  use,  Larree!"  Smiling,  Rador  stopped 
the  corial  just  beneath  the  arch  and  beside  one  of 
the  piers.  "Now,  listen  well.  They  have  had 
no  warning,  hence  does  Yolara  still  think  us  on  the 
way  to  the  temple.  This  is  the  gateway  of  the 
Portal — and  the  gateway  is  closed  by  the  Shadow. 

266 


The  Casting  of  the  Shadow    267 

Once  I  commanded  here  and  I  know  its  laws. 
This  must  I  do — by  craft  persuade  Serku,  the 
keeper  of  the  gateway,  to  lift  the  Shadow;  or  raise 
it  myself.  And  that  will  be  hard  and  it  may  well 
be  that  in  the  struggle  life  will  be  stripped  of  us  all. 
Yet  is  it  better  to  die  fighting  than  to  dance  with 
the  Shining  One!" 

He  swept  the  shell  around  the  pier.  Opened 
a  wide  plaza  paved  with  the  volcanic  glass,  but 
black  as  that  down  which  we  had  sped  from  the 
chamber  of  the  Moon  Pool.  It  shone  like  a 
mirrored  lakelet  of  jet;  on  each  side  of  it  arose 
what  at  first  glance  seemed  towering  bulwarks  of 
the  same  ebon  obsidian ;  at  second,  revealed  them 
selves  as  structures  hewn  and  set  in  place  by  men; 
polished  faces  pierced  by  dozens  of  high,  narrow 
windows. 

Down  each  facade  a  stairway  fell,  broken  by 
small  landings  on  which  a  door  opened;  they 
dropped  to  a  broad  ledge  of  greyish  stone  edging 
the  lip  of  this  midnight  pool  and  upon  it  also  fell 
two  wide  flights  from  either  side  of  the  bridge 
platform.  Along  all  four  stairways  the  guards 
were  ranged ;  and  here  and  there  against  the  ledge 
stood  the  shells — in  a  curiously  comforting  re 
semblance  to  parked  motors  in  our  own  world. 

The  sombre  walls  bulked  high;  curved  and 
ended  in  two  obelisked  pillars  from  which,  like  a 
tremendous  curtain,  stretched  a  barrier  of  that 
tenebrous  gloom  which,  though  weightless  as 
shadow  itself,  I  now  knew  to  be  as  impenetrable 


268  The  Moon  Pool 

as  the  veil  between  life  and  death.  In  this  murk, 
unlike  all  others  I  had  seen,  I  sensed  movement,  a 
quivering,  a  tremor  constant  and  rhythmic;  not  to 
be  seen,  yet  caught  by  some  subtle  sense;  as  though 
through  it  beat  a  swift  pulse  of — black  light. 

The  green  dwarf  turned  the  corial  slowly  to 
the  edge  at  the  right;  crept  cautiously  on  toward 
where,  not  more  than  a  hundred  feet  from  the 
barrier,  a  low,  wide  entrance  opened  in  the  fort. 
Guarding  its  threshold  stood  two  guards,  armed 
with  broadswords,  double-handed,  terminating 
in  a  wide  lunette  mouthed  with  murderous  fangs. 
These  they  raised  in  salute  and  through  the  portal 
strode  a  dwarf  huge  as  Rador,  dressed  as  he  and 
carrying  only  the  poniard  that  was  the  badge  of 
office  of  Muria's  captainry. 

The  green  dwarf  swept  the  shell  expertly  against 
the  ledge ;  leaped  out. 

"Greeting,  Serku!"  he  answered.  "I  was 
but  looking  for  the  coria  of  Lakla." 

"Lakla!"  exclaimed  Serku.  "Why,  the  hand 
maiden  passed  with  her  Akka  nigh  a  va  ago! " 

"Passed!"  The  astonishment  of  the  green 
dwarf  was  so  real  that  half  was  I  myself  deceived. 
"You  let  her  pass?" 

"Certainly  I  let  her  pass — "  But  under  the 
green  dwarf's  stern  gaze  the  truculence  of  the 
guardian  faded.  "Why  should  I  not?"  he  asked, 
apprehensively. 

"Because  Yolara  commanded  otherwise,"  an 
swered  Rador,  coldly. 


The  Casting  of  the  Shadow    269 

"There  came  no  command  to  me."  Little 
beads  of  sweat  stood  out  on  Serku's  forehead. 

"Serku, "  interrupted  the  green  dwarf  swiftly, 
"truly  is  my  heart  wrung  for  you.  This  is  a 
matter  of  Yolara  and  of  Lugur  and  the  Council ; 
yes,  even  of  the  Shining  One!  And  the  message 
was  sent — and  the  fate,  mayhap,  of  all  Muria 
rested  upon  your  obedience  and  the  return  of 
Lakla  with  these  strangers  to  the  Council.  Now 
truly  is  my  heart  wrung,  for  there  are  few  I  would 
less  like  to  see  dance  with  the  Shining  One  than 
you,  Serku,"  he  ended,  softly. 

Livid  now  was  the  gateway's  guardian,  his 
great  frame  shaking. 

"Come  with  me  and  speak  to  Yolara,"  he 
pleaded.  ' '  There  came  no  message — tell  her " 

"Wait,  Serku!"  There  was  a  thrill  as  of  in 
spiration  in  Rador's  voice.  "This  corial  is  of  the 
swiftest — Lakla's  are  of  the  slowest.  With  Lakla 
scarce  a  va  ahead  we  can  reach  her  before  she 
enters  the  Portal.  Lift  you  the  Shadow — we  will 
bring  her  back,  and  this  will  I  do  for  you,  Serku." 

Doubt  tempered  Serku's  panic. 

"Why  not  go  alone,  Rador,  leaving  the  strangers 
here  with  me?"  he  asked — and  I  thought  not 
unreasonably. 

"Nay,  then."  The  green  dwarf  was  brusk. 
"Lakla  will  not  return  unless  I  carry  to  her  these 
men  as  evidence  of  our  good  faith.  Come — we 
will  speak  to  Yolara  and  she  shall  judge  you — " 
He  started  away — but  Serku  caught  his  arm. 


270  The  Moon  Pool 

"No,  Rador,  no!"  he  whispered,  again  panic- 
stricken.  "Go  you — as  you  will.  But  bring  her 
back!  Speed,  Rador!"  He  sprang  toward  the 
entrance.  "I  lift  the  Shadow " 

Into  the  green  dwarf's  poise  crept  a  curious, 
almost  a  listening,  alertness.  He  leaped  to 
Serku's  side. 

"I  go  with  you,"  I  heard.  "Some  little  I  can 
tell  you — "  They  were  gone. 

"Fine  work!"  muttered  Larry.  "Nominated 
for  a  citizen  of  Ireland  when  we  get  out  of  this, 
one  Rador  of " 

The  Shadow  trembled — shuddered  into  nothing 
ness;  the  obelisked  outposts  that  had  held  it 
framed  a  ribbon  of  roadway,  high  banked  with 
verdure,  vanishing  in  green  distances. 

And  then  from  the  portal  sped  a  shriek,  a  death 
cry!  It  cut  through  the  silence  of  the  ebon  pit 
like  a  whimpering  arrow.  Before  it  had  died, 
down  the  stairways  came  pouring  the  guards. 
Those  at  the  threshold  raised  their  swords  and 
peered  within.  Abruptly  Rador  was  between 
them.  One  dropped  his  hilt  and  gripped  him — 
the  green  dwarf's  poniard  flashed  and  was  buried 
in  his  throat.  Down  upon  Rador's  head  swept 
the  second  blade.  A  flame  leaped  from  O'Keefe's 
hand  and  the  sword  seemed  to  fling  itself  from  its 
wielder's  grasp — another  flash  and  the  soldier 
crumpled.  Rador  threw  himself  into  the  shell, 
darted  to  the  high  seat — and  straight  between 
the  pillars  of  the  Shadow  we  flew ! 


The  Casting  of  the  Shadow    271 

There  came  a  crackling,  a  darkness  of  vast 
wings  flinging  down  upon  us.  The  coriaVs  flight 
was  checked  as  by  a  giant's  hand.  The  shell 
swerved  sickeningly;  there  was  an  oddly  metallic 
splintering;  it  quivered;  shot  ahead.  Dizzily  I 
picked  myself  up  and  looked  behind. 

The  Shadow  had  fallen — but  too  late,  a  bare 
instant  too  late.  And  shrinking  as  we  fled  from 
it,  still  it  seemed  to  strain  like  some  fettered  Afrit 
from  Eblis,  throbbing  with  wrath,  seeking  with 
every  malign  power  it  possessed  to  break  its  bonds 
and  pursue.  Not  until  long  after  were  we  to 
know  that  it  had  been  the  dying  hand  of  Serku, 
groping  out  of  oblivion,  that  had  cast  it  after  us  as 
a  fowler  upon  an  escaping  bird. 

"Snappy  work,  Rador!"  It  was  Larry  speak 
ing.  "But  they  cut  the  end  off  your  bus  all 
right!" 

A  full  quarter  of  the  hindward  whorl  was  gone, 
sliced  off  cleanly.  Rador  noted  it  with  anxious 
eyes. 

"That  is  bad,"  he  said,  "but  not  too  bad  per 
haps.  All  depends  upon  how  closely  Lugur  and 
his  men  can  follow  us." 

He  raised  a  hand  to  O'Keefe  in  salute. 

"But  to  you,  Larree,  I  owe  my  life — not  even 
the  Keth  could  have  been  as  swift  to  save  me  as 
was  that  death  flame  of  yours — friend!" 

The  Irishman  waved  an  airy  hand. 

"Serku" — the  green  dwarf  drew  from  his  girdle 
the  blood-stained  poniard — "Serku  I  was  forced 


272  The  Moon  Pool 

to  slay.  Even  as  he  raised  the  Shadow  the  globe 
gave  the  alarm.  Lugur  follows  with  twice  ten 
times  ten  of  his  best — "  He  hesitated.  "Though 
we  have  escaped  the  Shadow  it  has  taken  toll  of 
our  swiftness.  May  we  reach  the  Portal  before 
it  closes  upon  Lakla — but  if  we  do  not — "  He 
paused  again.  "Well — I  know  a  way — but  it  is 
not  one  I  am  gay  to  follow — no!" 

He  snapped  open  the  aperture  that  held  the 
ball  flaming  within  the  dark  crystal;  peered  at  it 
anxiously.  I  crept  to  the  torn  end  of  the  corial. 
The  edges  were  crumbling,  disintegrated.  They 
powdered  in  my  fingers  like  dust.  Mystified 
still,  I  crept  back  where  Larry,  sheer  happiness 
pouring  from  him,  was  whistling  softly  and 
polishing  up  his  automatic.  His  gaze  fell  upon 
Olaf 's  grim,  sad  face  and  softened. 

"Buck  up,  Olaf!"  he  said.  "We've  got  a  good 
fighting  chance.  Once  we  link  up  with  Lakla  and 
her  crowd  I'm  betting  that  we  get  your  wife — 
never  doubt  it!  The  baby — "  he  hesitated 
awkwardly.  The  Norseman's  eyes  filled;  he 
stretched  a  hand  to  the  O'Keefe. 

"The  Yndling—she  is  of  de  Dode,"  he  half 
whispered,  "of  the  blessed  dead.  For  her  I  have 
no  fear  and  for  her  vengeance  will  be  given  me. 
Ja!  But  my  Helma — she  is  of  the  dead-alive — 
like  those  we  saw  whirling  like  leaves  in  the  light 
of  the  Shining  Devil — and  I  would  that  she  too 
were  of  de  Dode — and  at  rest.  I  do  not  know  how 
to  fight  the  Shining  Devil — no!" 


The  Casting  of  the  Shadow    273 

His  bitter  despair  welled  up  in  his  voice. 

"Olaf, "  Larry's  voice  was  gentle.  "We'll  come 
out  on  top — I  know  it.  Remember  one  thing. 
All  this  stuff  that  seems  so  strange  and — and, 
well,  sort  of  supernatural,  is  just  a  lot  of  tricks 
we're  not  hep  to  as  yet.  Why,  Olaf,  suppose  you 
took  a  Fijian  when  the  war  was  on  and  set  him 
suddenly  down  in  London  with  autos  rushing  past, 
sirens  blowing,  Archies  popping,  a  dozen  enemy 
planes  dropping  bombs,  and  the  searchlights 
shooting  all  over  the  sky — wouldn't  he  think  he 
was  among  thirty-third  degree  devils  in  some 
exclusive  circle  of  hell?  Sure  he  would!  And 
yet  everything  he  saw  would  be  natural — just  as 
natural  as  all  this  is,  once  we  get  the  answer  to 
it.  Not  that  we're  Fijians,  of  course,  but  the 
principle  is  the  same." 

The  Norseman  considered  this;  nodded  gravely. 

"Ja!"  he  answered  at  last.  "And  at  least  we 
can  fight.  That  is  why  I  have  turned  to  Thor 
of  the  battles,  Ja!  And  one  have  I  hope  in  for 
mine  Helma — the  white  maiden.  Since  I  have 
turned  to  the  old  gods  it  has  been  made  clear  to 
me  that  I  shall  slay  Lugur  and  that  the  Heks,  the 
evil  witch  Yolara,  shall  also  die.  But  I  would 
talk  with  the  white  maiden.' 

"All  right,"  said  Larry,  "but  just  don't  be 
afraid  of  what  you  don't  understand.  There's 
another  thing" — he  hesitated,  nervously — "there's 
another  thing  that  may  startle  you  a  bit  when  we 
meet  up  with  Lakla — her — er — frogs!" 


274  The  Moon  Pool 

"Like  the  frog-women  we  saw  on  the  wall?" 
asked  Olaf . 

"Yes,"  went  on  Larry,  rapidly.  "It's  this 
way — I  figure  that  the  frogs  grow  rather  large 
where  she  lives,  and  they're  a  bit  different  too. 
Well,  Lakla's  got  a  lot  of  'em  trained.  Carry 
spears  and  clubs  and  all  that  junk — just  like 
trained  seals  or  monkeys  or  so  on  in  the  circus. 
Probably  a  custom  of  the  place.  Nothing  queer 
about  that,  Olaf.  Why  people  have  all  kinds  of 
pets — armadillos  and  snakes  and  rabbits,  kangaroos 
and  elephants  and  tigers." 

Remembering  how  the  frog-woman  had  stuck 
in  Larry's  mind  from  the  outset,  I  wondered 
whether  all  this  was  not  more  to  convince  himself 
than  Olaf. 

"Why,  I  remember  a  nice  girl  in  Paris  who  had 
four  pet  pythons — "  he  went  on. 

But  I  listened  no  more,  for  now  I  was  sure  of 
my  surmise. 

The  road  had  begun  to  thrust  itself  through 
high-flung,  sharply  pinnacled  masses  and  rounded 
outcroppings  of  rock  on  which  clung  patches  of 
the  amber  moss. 

The  trees  had  utterly  vanished,  and  studding 
the  moss-carpeted  plains  were  only  clumps  of  a 
willowy  shrub  from  which  hung,  like  grapes, 
clusters  of  white  waxen  blooms.  The  light  too 
had  changed;  gone  were  the  dancing,  sparkling 
atoms  and  the  silver  had  faded  to  a  soft,  almost 
ashen  greyness.  Ahead  of  us  marched  a  rampart 


The  Casting  of  the  Shadow    275 

of  coppery  cliffs  rising,  like  all  these  mountainous 
walls  we  had  seen,  into  the  immensities  of  haze. 
Something  long  drifting  in  my  subconsciousness 
turned  to  startled  realization.  The  speed  of  the 
shell  was  slackening!  The  aperture  containing 
the  ionizing  mechanism  was  still  open;  I  glanced 
within.  The  whirling  ball  of  fire  was  not  dimmed, 
but  its  coruscations,  instead  of  pouring  down 
through  the  cylinder,  swirled  and  eddied  and  shot 
back  as  though  trying  to  re-enter  their  source. 
Rador  nodded  grimly. 

"The  Shadow  takes  its  toll, "  he  said. 

We  topped  a  rise — Larry  gripped  my  arm. 

"Look!"  he  cried,  and  pointed.  Far,  far 
behind  us,  so  far  that  the  road  was  but  a  glistening 
thread,  a  score  of  shining  points  came  speeding. 

"Lugur  and  his  men,"  said  Rador. 

"Can't  you  step  on  her?"  asked  Larry. 

"Step  on  her?"  repeated  the  green  dwarf, 
puzzled. 

"Give  her  more  speed;  push  her,"  explained 
O'Keefe. 

Rador  looked  about  him.  The  coppery  ram 
parts  were  close,  not  more  than  three  of  our  miles 
distant;  in  front  of  us  the  plain  lifted  in  a  long 
rolling  swell,  and  up  this  the  corial  essayed  to  go — 
with  a  terrifying  lessening  of  speed.  Faintly 
behind  us  came  shoutings,  and  we  knew  that 
Lugur  drew  close.  Nor  anywhere  was  there  sign 
of  Lakla  nor  her  frog-men. 

Now  we  were  half-way  to  the  crest;  the  shell 


276  The  Moon  Pool 

barely  crawled  and  from  beneath  it  came  a  faint 
hissing;  it  quivered,  and  I  knew  that  its  base  was 
no  longer  held  above  the  glassy  surface  but  rested 
on  it. 

"One  last  chance!"  exclaimed  Rador.  He 
pressed  upon  the  control  lever  and  wrenched  it 
from  its  socket.  Instantly  the  sparkling  ball  ex 
panded,  whirling  with  prodigious  rapidity  and 
sending  a  cascade  of  coruscations  into  the  cylinder. 
The  shell  rose;  leaped  through  the  air;  the  dark 
crystal  split  into  fragments;  the  fiery  ball  dulled; 
died — but  upon  the  impetus  of  that  last  thrust 
we  reached  the  crest.  Poised  there  for  a  moment, 
I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  road  dropping  down  the 
side  of  an  enormous  moss-covered,  bowl-shaped 
valley  whose  sharply  curved  sides  ended  abruptly 
at  the  base  of  the  towering  barrier. 

Then  down  the  steep,  powerless  to  guide  or  to 
check  the  shell,  we  plunged  in  a  meteor  rush 
straight  for  the  annihilating  adamantine  breasts 
of  the  cliffs! 

Now  the  quick  thinking  of  Larry's  air  training 
came  to  our  aid.  As  the  rampart  reared  close  he 
threw  himself  upon  Rador;  hurled  him  and  himself 
against  the  side  of  the  flying  whorl.  Under  the 
shock  the  finely  balanced  machine  swerved  from 
its  course.  It  struck  the  soft,  low  bank  of  the 
road,  shot  high  in  air,  bounded  on  through  the 
thick  carpeting,  whirled  like  a  dervish  and  fell 
upon  its  side.  Shot  from  it,  we  rolled  for  yards, 
but  the  moss  saved  broken  bones  or  serious  bruise. 


The  Casting  of  the  Shadow    277 

"Quick!"  cried  the  green  dwarf.  He  seized 
an  arm,  dragged  me  to  my  feet,  began  running  to 
the  cliff  base  not  a  hundred  feet  away.  Beside  us 
raced  O'Keefe  and  Olaf.  At  our  left  was  the 
black  road.  It  stopped  abruptly — was  cut  off  by 
a  slab  of  polished  crimson  stone  a  hundred  feet 
high,  and  as  wide,  set  within  the  coppery  face  of 
the  barrier.  On  each  side  of  it  stood  pillars,  cut 
from  the  living  rock  and  immense,  almost,  as  those 
which  held  the  rainbow  veil  of  the  Dweller. 
Across  its  face  weaved  unnameable  carvings — but 
I  had  no  time  for  more  than  a  glance.  The  green 
dwarf  gripped  my  arm  again. 

"Quick!"  he  cried  again.  "The  handmaiden 
has  passed!" 

At  the  right  of  the  Portal  ran  a  low  wall  of 
shattered  rock.  Over  this  we  raced  like  rabbits. 
Hidden  behind  it  was  a  narrow  path.  Crouching, 
Rador  in  the  lead,  we  sped  along  it;  three  hundred, 
four  hundred  yards  we  raced — and  the  path  ended 
in  a  cut  de  sac !  To  our  ears  was  borne  a  louder 
shouting. 

The  first  of  the  pursuing  shells  had  swept  over 
the  lip  of  the  great  bowl,  poised  for  a  moment 
as  we  had  and  then  began  a  cautious  descent. 
Within  it,  scanning  the  slopes,  I  saw  Lugur. 

"A  little  closer  and  I'll  get  him!"  whispered 
Larry  viciously.  He  raised  his  pistol. 

His  hand  was  caught  in  a  mighty  grip;  Rador, 
eyes  blazing,  stood  beside  him. 

"No!"  rasped  the  green  dwarf.     He  heaved  a 


278  The  Moon  Pool 

shoulder  against  one  of  the  boulders  that  formed 
the  pocket.  It  rocked  aside,  revealing  a  slit. 

"In!"  ordered  he,  straining  against  the  weight 
of  the  stone.  O'Keefe  slipped  through,  Olaf  at 
his  back,  I  following.  With  a  lightning  leap  the 
dwarf  was  beside  me,  the  huge  rock  missing  him 
by  a  hair  breadth  as  it  swung  into  place! 

We  were  in  Cimmerian  darkness.  I  felt  foi 
my  pocket-flash  and  recalled  with  distress  that  I 
had  left  it  behind  with  my  medicine  kit  when  we 
fled  from  the  gardens.  But  Rador  seemed  to 
need  no  light. 

"Grip  hands!"  he  ordered.  We  crept,  single 
file,  holding  to  each  other  like  children,  through 
the  black.  At  last  the  green  dwarf  paused. 

"Await  me  here,"  he  whispered.  "Do  not 
move.  And  for  your  lives — be  silent!" 

And  he  was  gone. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

DRAGON  WORM  AND  MOSS  DEATH 

FOR  a  small  eternity — to  me  at  least — we  waited. 
Then  as  silent  as  ever  the  green  dwarf  returned. 
"It  is  well,"  he  said,  some  of  the  strain  gone 
from  his  voice.     "Grip  hands  again,  and  follow." 

"Wait  a  bit,  Rador, "  this  was  Larry.  "Does 
Lugur  know  this  side  entrance?  If  he  does,  why 
not  let  Olaf  and  me  go  back  to  the  opening  and 
pick  them  off  as  they  come  in?  We  could  hold 
the  lot — and  in  the  mean  time  you  and  Goodwin 
could  go  after  Lakla  for  help." 

"Lugur  knows  the  secret  of  the  Portal — if  he 
dare  use  it, "  answered  the  captain,  with  a  curious 
indirection.  "And  now  that  they  have  challenged 
the  Silent  Ones  I  think  he  will  dare.  Also,  he  will 
find  our  tracks — and  it  may  be  that  he  knows  this 
hidden  way." 

"Well,  for  God's  sake!"  O'Keefe's  appalled  be 
wilderment  was  almost  ludicrous.  "If  he  knows 
all  that,  and  you  knew  all  that,  why  didn't  you  let 
me  click  him  when  I  had  the  chance?" 

"Larree,"  the  green  dwarf  was  oddly  humble. 
"It  seemed  good  to  me,  too — at  first.  And  then 

279 


280  The  Moon  Pool 

I  heard  a  command,  heard  it  clearly,  to  stop  you 
— that  Lugur  die  not  now,  lest  a  greater  vengeance 
fail!" 

"Command?  From  whom?"  The  Irishman's 
voice  distilled  out  of  the  blackness  the  very  essence 
of  bewilderment. 

"I  thought,"  Rador  was  whispering — "I  thought 
it  came  from  the  Silent  Ones!" 

"Superstition!"  groaned  O'Keefe  in  utter  ex 
asperation.  "Always  superstition!  What  can  you 
do  against  it ! 

"Never  mind,  Rador."  His  sense  of  humour 
came  to  his  aid.  "It's  too  late  now,  anyway. 
Where  do  we  go  from  here,  old  dear  ? "  he  laughed. 

"We  tread  the  path  of  one  I  am  not  fain  to 
meet,"  answered  Rador.  "But  if  meet  we  must, 
point  the  death  tubes  at  the  pale  shield  he  bears 
upon  his  throat  and  send  the  flame  into  the  flower  of 
cold  fire  that  is  its  centre — nor  look  into  his  eyes ! " 

Again  Larry  gasped,  and  I  with  him. 

"It's  getting  too  deep  for  me,  Doc, "  he  muttered 
dejectedly.  ' '  Can  you  make  head  or  tail  of  it  ? " 

"No,"  I  answered,  shortly  enough,  "but  Rador 
fears  something  and  that's  his  description  of  it." 

"Sure,"  he  replied,  "only  it's  a  code  I  don't 
understand."  I  could  feel  his  grin.  "All  right 
for  the  flower  of  cold  fire,  Rador,  and  I  won't  look 
into  his  eyes,"  he  went  on  cheerfully.  "But 
hadn't  we  better  be  moving?" 

"Come!"  said  the  soldier;  again  hand  in  hand 
we  went  blindly  on. 


Dragon  Worm  and  Moss  Death  281 

O'Keefe  was  muttering  to  himself. 

"Flower  of  cold  fire!  Don't  look  into  his  eyes! 
Some  joint!  Damned  superstition."  Then  he 
chuckled  and  carolled,  softly: 

"Oh,  mama,  pin  a  cold  rose  on  me; 
Two  young  frog-men  are  in  love  with  me; 
Shut  my  eyes  so  I  can't  see. " 

"Sh!"  Rador  was  warning;  he  began  whisper 
ing.  "For  half  a  va  we  go  along  a  way  of  death. 
From  its  peril  we  pass  into  another  against  whose 
dangers  I  can  guard  you.  But  in  part  this  is  in 
view  of  the  roadway  and  it  may  be  that  Lugur 
will  see  us.  If  so,  we  must  fight  as  best  we  can. 
If  we  pass  these  two  roads  safely,  then  is  the  way 
to  the  Crimson  Sea  clear,  nor  need  we  fear  Lugur 
nor  any.  And  there  is  another  thing — that 
Lugur  does  not  know — when  he  opens  the  Portal 
the  Silent  Ones  will  hear  and  Lakla  and  the  Akka 
will  be  swift  to  greet  its  opener. ' ' 

"Rador, "  I  asked,  "how  know  you  all  this?" 

"The  handmaiden  is  my  own  sister's  child, "  he 
answered  quietly. 

O'Keefe  drew  a  long  breath. 

"Uncle,"  he  remarked  casually  in  English, 
"meet  the  man  who's  going  to  be  your  nephew!" 

And  thereafter  he  never  addressed  the  green 
dwarf  except  by  the  avuncular  title,  which  Rador, 
humorously  enough,  apparently  conceived  to  be 
one  of  respectful  endearment. 

For  me  a  light  broke.     Plain  now  was  the  reason 


282  The  Moon  Pool 

for  his  foreknowledge  of  Lakla's  appearance  at 
the  feast  where  Larry  had  so  narrowly  escaped 
Yolara's  spells;  plain  the  determining  factor  that 
had  cast  his  lot  with  ours,  and  my  confidence, 
despite  his  discourse  of  mysterious  perils,  experi 
enced  a  remarkable  quickening. 

Speculation  as  to  the  marked  differences  in 
pigmentation  and  appearance  of  niece  and  uncle 
was  dissipated  by  my  consciousness  that  we  were 
now  moving  in  a  dim  half-light.  We  were  in  a 
fairly  wide  tunnel.  Not  far  ahead  the  gleam 
filtered,  pale  yellow  like  sunlight  sifting  through 
the  leaves  of  autumn  poplars.  And  as  we  drew 
closer  to  its  source  I  saw  that  it  did  indeed  pass 
through  a  leafy  screen  hanging  over  the  passage 
end.  This  Rador  drew  aside  cautiously,  beckoned 
us  and  we  stepped  through. 

It  appeared  to  be  a  tunnel  cut  through  soft  green 
mould.  Its  base  was  a  flat  strip  of  pathway  a  yard 
wide  from  which  the  walls  curved  out  in  perfect 
cylindrical  form,  smoothed  and  evened  with 
utmost  nicety.  Thirty  feet  wide  they  were  at 
their  widest,  then  drew  toward  each  other  with  no 
break  in  their  symmetry;  they  did  not  close. 
Above  was,  roughly,  a  ten-foot  rift,  ragged  edged, 
through  which  poured  light  like  that  in  the  heart 
of  pale  amber,  a  buttercup  light  shot  through  with 
curiously  evanescent  bronze  shadows. 

"Quick!"  commanded  Rador,  uneasily,  and  set 
off  at  a  sharp  pace. 

Now,  my  eyes  accustomed  to  the  strange  light, 


Dragon  Worm  and  Moss  Death  283 

I  saw  that  the  tunnel's  walls  were  of  moss.  In 
them  I  could  trace  fringe  leaf  and  curly  leaf, 
pressings  of  enormous  bladder  caps  (Physcomi- 
trium),  immense  splashes  of  what  seemed  to  be  the 
scarlet-crested  Cladonia,  traceries  of  huge  moss 
veils,  crushings  of  teeth  (peristome)  gigantic; 
spore  cases  brown  and  white,  saffron  and  ivory, 
hot  vermilions  and  cerulean  blues,  pressed  into  an 
astounding  mosaic  by  some  titanic  force. 

"Hurry!"  It  was  Rador  calling.  I  had  lagged 
behind. 

He  quickened  the  pace  to  a  half -run;  we 
were  climbing;  panting.  The  amber  light  grew 
stronger;  the  rift  above  us  wider.  The  tunnel 
curved ;  on  the  left  a  narrow  cleft  appeared.  The 
green  dwarf  leaped  toward  it,  thrust  us  within, 
pushed  us  ahead  of  him  up  a  steep  rocky  fissure — 
well-nigh,  indeed,  a  chimney.  Up  and  up  this 
we  scrambled  until  my  lungs  were  bursting  and  I 
thought  I  could  climb  no  more.  The  crevice 
ended;  we  crawled  out  and  sank,  even  Rador, 
upon  a  little  leaf -carpeted  clearing  circled  by  lacy- 
tree  ferns. 

Gasping,  legs  aching,  we  lay  prone,  relaxed, 
drawing  back  strength  and  breath.  Rador  was 
first  to  rise.  Thrice  he  bent  low  as  in  homage, 
then 

"Give  thanks  to  the  Silent  Ones — for  their 
power  has  been  over  us!"  he  exclaimed. 

Dimly  I  wondered  what  he  meant.  Something 
about  the  fern  leaf  at  which  I  had  been  staring 


284  The  Moon  Pool 

aroused  me.  I  leaped  to  my  feet  and  ran  to  its 
base.  This  was  no  fern,  no!  It  was  fern  moss! 
The  largest  of  its  species  I  had  ever  found  in  tropic 
jungles  had  not  been  more  than  two  inches  high, 
and  this  was — twenty  feet!  The  scientific  fire  I 
had  experienced  in  the  tunnel  returned  uncontroll 
able.  I  parted  the  fronds,  gazed  out — 

My  outlook  commanded  a  vista  of  miles — and 
that  vista!  A  Fata  Morgana  of  plantdom!  A 
land  of  flowered  sorcery ! 

Forests  of  tree-high  mosses  spangled  over  with 
blooms  of  every  conceivable  shape  and  colour; 
cataracts  and  clusters,  avalanches  and  nets  of 
blossoms  in  pastels,  in  dulled  metallics,  in  gorgeous 
flamboyant  hues;  some  of  them  phosphorescent 
and  shining  like  living  jewels;  some  sparkling  as 
though  with  dust  of  opals,  of  sapphires,  of  rubies 
and  topazes  and  emeralds;  thickets  of  convolvuli 
like  the  trumpets  of  the  seven  archangels  of  Mara, 
king  of  illusion,  which  are  shaped  from  the  bows 
of  splendours  arching  his  highest  heaven! 

And  moss  veils  like  banners  of  a  marching  host 
of  Titans;  pennons  and  bannerets  of  the  sunset; 
gonfalons  of  the  Jinn ;  webs  of  faery ;  oriflammes  of 
elfland! 

Springing  up  through  that  polychromatic  flood 
myriads  of  pedicles — slender  and  straight  as 
spears,  or  soaring  in  spirals,  or  curving  with 
undulations  gracile  as  the  white  serpents  of  Tanit 
in  ancient  Carthaginian  groves — and  all  sur 
mounted  by  a  fantasy  of  spore  cases  in  shapes  of 


Dragon  Worm  and  Moss  Death  285 

minaret  and  turret,  domes  and  spires  and  cones, 
caps  of  Phrygia  and  bishops'  mitres,  shapes 
grotesque  and  unnameable — shapes  delicate  and 
lovely ! 

They  hung  high  poised,  nodding  and  swaying 
— like  goblins  hovering  over  Titania's  court; 
cacophony  of  Cathay  accenting  the  Flower  Ma-iden 
music  of  "Parsifal";  bizarrerie  of  the  angled,  fan 
tastic  beings  that  people  the  Javan  pantheon 
watching  a  bacchanal  of  houris  in  Mohammed's 
paradise ! 

Down  upon  it  all  poured  the  amber  light; 
dimmed  in  the  distances  by  huge,  drifting  darken- 
ings  lurid  as  the  flying  mantles  of  the  hurricane. 

And  through  the  light,  like  showers  of  jewels, 
myriads  of  birds,  darting,  dipping,  soaring,  and 
still  other  myriads  of  gigantic,  shimmering  butter 
flies. 

A  sound  came  to  us,  reaching  out  like  the  first 
faint  susurrus  of  the  incoming  tide ;  sighing,  sighing, 
growing  stronger — now  its  mournful  whispering 
quivered  all  about  us,  shook  us — then  passing  like  a 
Presence,  died  away  in  far  distances. 

"The  Portal!"  said  Rador.  "Lugur  has 
entered!" 

He,  too,  parted  the  fronds  and  peered  back 
along  our  path.  Peering  with  him  we  saw  the 
barrier  through  which  we  had  come  stretching 
verdure-covered  walls  for  miles  three  or  more 
away.  Like  a  mole  burrow  in  a  garden  stretched 
the  trail  of  the  tunnel;  here  and  there  we  could 


286  The  Moon  Pool 

look  down  within  the  rift  at  its  top ;  far  off  in  it  I 
thought  I  saw  the  glint  of  spears. 

"They  come!"  whispered  Rador.  "  Quick  \ 
We  must  not  meet  them  here!" 

And  then 

"Holy  St.  Brigid!"  gasped  Larry. 

From  the  rift  in  the  tunnel's  continuation,  nigh 
a  mile  beyond  the  cleft  through  which  we  had 
fled,  lifted  a  crown  of  horns — of  tentacles — erect, 
alert,  of  mottled  gold  and  crimson;  lifted  higher — 
and  from  a  monstrous  scarlet  head  beneath  them 
blazed  two  enormous,  obloid  eyes,  their  depths 
wells  of  purplish  phosphorescence;  higher  still — 
noseless,  earless,  chinless;  a  livid,  worm  mouth 
from  which  a  slender  scarlet  tongue  leaped  like 
playing  flames!  Slowly  it  rose — its  mighty  neck 
cuirassed  with  gold  and  scarlet  scales  from  whose 
polished  surfaces  the  amber  light  glinted  like 
flakes  of  fire ;  and  under  this  neck  shimmered  some* 
thing  like  a  palely  luminous  silvery  shield,  guarding 
it.  The  head  of  horror  mounted — and  in  the  shield's 
centre,  full  ten  feet  across,  glowing,  flickering, 
shining  out — coldly,  was  a  rose  of  white  flame, 
a  "flower  of  cold  fire"  even  as  Rador  had  said. 

Now  swiftly  the  Thing  upreared,  standing  like  a 
scaled  tower  a  hundred  feet  above  the  rift,  its 
eyes  scanning  that  movement  I  had  seen  along 
the  course  of  its  lair.  There  was  a  hissing;  the 
crown  of  horns  fell,  whipped  and  writhed  like  the 
tentacles  of  an  octopus;  the  towering  length 
dropped  back. 


Dragon  Worm  and  Moss  Death  287 

"Quick!"  gasoed  Rador  and  through  the  fern 
moss,  along  the  path  and  down  the  other  side  of 
the  steep  we  raced. 

Behind  us  for  an  instant  there  was  a  rushing  as 
of  a  torrent;  a  far-away,  faint,  agonized  screaming 
— silence ! 

"No  fear  now  from  those  who  followed," 
whispered  the  green  dwarf,  pausing. 

"Sainted  St.  Patrick!"  O'Keefe  gazed  rumi- 
natively  at  his  automatic.  "An'  he  expected  me 
to  kill  that  with  this.  Well,  as  Fergus  O'Connor 
said  when  they  sent  him  out  to  slaughter  a  wild 
bull  with  a  potato  knife:  'Ye'll  niver  rayilize 
how  I  appreciate  the  confidence  ye  show  in  me ! ' 

"What  was  it  Doc?"  he  asked. 

"The  dragon  worm!"  Rador  said. 

' '  It  was  Helvede  Orm — the  hell  worm ! "  groaned 
Olaf. 

"There  you  go  again — "  blazed  Larry;  but  the 
green  dwarf  was  hurrying  down  the  path  and 
swiftly  we  followed,  Larry  muttering,  Olaf  mum 
bling,  behind  me. 

The  green  dwarf  was  signalling  us  for  caution. 
He  pointed  through  a  break  in  a  grove  of  fifty- 
foot  cedar  mosses — we  were  skirting  the  glassy 
road!  Scanning  it  we  found  no  trace  of  Lugur 
and  wondered  whether  he  too  had  seen  the  worm 
and  had  fled.  Quickly  we  passed  on;  drew  away 
from  the  coria  path.  The  mosses  began  to  thin; 
less  and  less  they  grew,  giving  way  to  low  clumps 
that  barely  offered  us  shelter.  Unexpectedly 


288  The  Moon  Pool 

another  screen  of  fern  moss  stretched  before  us. 
Slowly  Rador  made  his  way  through  it  and  stood 
hesitating. 

The  scene  in  front  of  us  was  oddly  weird  and 
depressing;  in  some  indefinable  way — dreadful. 
Why,  I  could  not  tell,  but  the  impression  was 
plain;  I  shrank  from  it.  Then,  self-analyzing,  I 
wondered  whether  it  could  be  the  uncanny  re 
semblance  the  heaps  of  curious  mossy  fungi 
scattered  about  had  to  beast  and  bird — yes,  and 
to  man — that  was  the  cause  of  it.  Our  path  ran 
between  a  few  of  them.  To  the  left  they  were 
thick.  They  were  viridescent,  almost  metallic 
hued — verd-antique.  Curiously  indeed  were  they 
like  distorted  images  of  dog  and  deerlike  forms,  of 
birds — of  dwarfs  and  here  and  there  the  simulacra 
of  the  giant  frogs!  Spore  cases,  yellowish  green, 
as  large  as  mitres  and  much  resembling  them  in 
shape  protruded  from  the  heaps.  My  repulsion 
grew  into  a  distinct  nausea. 

Rador  turned  to  us  a  face  whiter  far  than 
that  with  which  he  had  looked  upon  the  dragon 
worm. 

"Now  for  your  lives,"  he  whispered,  "tread 
softly  here  as  I  do — and  speak  not  at  all!" 

He  stepped  forward  on  tiptoe,  slowly  with 
utmost  caution.  We  crept  after  him;  passed  the 
heaps  beside  the  path — and  as  I  passed  my  skin 
crept  and  I  shrank  and  saw  the  others  shrink  too 
with  that  unnameable  loathing;  nor  did  the  green 
dwarf  pause  until  he  had  reached  the  brow  of  a 


Dragon  Worm  and  Moss  Death  289 

small  hillock  a  hundred  yards  beyond.  And  he 
was  trembling. 

"Now  what  are  we  up  against?"  grumbled 
O'Keefe. 

The  green  dwarf  stretched  a  hand;  stiffened; 
gazed  over  to  the  left  of  us  beyond  a  lower  hillock 
upon  whose  broad  crest  lay  a  file  of  the  moss 
shapes.  They  fringed  it,  their  mitres  having  a 
grotesque  appearance  of  watching  what  lay  below. 
The  glistening  road  lay  there — and  from  it  came  a 
shout.  A  dozen  of  the  coria  clustered,  filled  with 
Lugur's  men  and  in  one  of  them  Lugur  himself, 
laughing  wickedly ! 

There  was  a  rush  of  soldiers  and  up  the  low 
hillock  raced  a  score  of  them  toward  us. 

"Run!"  shouted  Rador. 

"Not  much!"  grunted  Larry — and  took  swift 
aim  at  Lugur.  The  automatic  spat ;  Olaf 's  echoed. 
Both  bullets  went  wide,  for  Lugur,  still  laughing 
threw  himself  into  the  protection  of  the  body  of 
his  shell.  But  following  the  shots,  from  the  file 
of  moss  heaps  on  the  crest,  came  a  series  of  muffled 
explosions.  Under  the  pistols'  concussions  the 
mitred  caps  had  burst  and  instantly  all  about  the 
running  soldiers  grew  a  cloud  of  tiny,  glistening 
white  spores — like  a  little  cloud  of  puff-ball  dust 
many  times  magnified.  Through  this  cloud  I 
glimpsed  their  faces,  stricken  with  agony. 

Some  turned  to  fly,  but  before  they  could  take  a 
second  step  stood  rigid. 

The   spore   cloud    drifted   and   eddied   about 


290  The  Moon  Pool 

them;  rained  down  on  their  heads  and  half  bare 
breasts,  covered  their  garments — and  swiftly  they 
began  to  change!  Their  features  grew  indistinct 
— merged!  The  glistening  white  spores  that 
covered  them  turned  to  a  pale  yellow,  grew  green 
ish,  spread  and  swelled,  darkened.  The  eyes  of 
one  of  the  soldiers  glinted  for  a  moment — and 
then  were  covered  by  the  swift  growth ! 

Where  but  a  few  moments  before  had  been 
men  were  only  grotesque  heaps,  swiftly  melting, 
swiftly  rounding  into  the  semblance  of  the  mounds 
that  lay  behind  us — and  already  beginning  to 
take  on  their  gleam  of  ancient  viridescence ! 

The  Irishman  was  gripping  my  arm  fiercely; 
the  pain  brought  me  back  to  my  senses. 

4 '  Olaf 's  right, "  he  gasped.  ' ' This  is  hell !  I'm 
sick."  And  he  was,  frankly  and  without  restraint. 
Lugur  and  his  others  awakened  from  their  night 
mare  ;  piled  into  the  coria,  wheeled,  raced  away. 

"On!"  said  Rador  thickly.  "Two  perils  have 
we  passed — the  Silent  Ones  watch  over  us!" 

Soon  we  were  again  among  the  familiar  and  so 
unfamiliar  moss  giants.  I  knew  what  I  had  seen 
and  this  time  Larry  could  not  call  me — super 
stitious.  In  the  jungles  of  Borneo  I  had  examined 
that  other  swiftly  developing  fungus  which  wreaks 
the  vengeance  of  some  of  the  hill  tribes  upon  those 
who  steal  their  women ;  gripping  with  its  microsco 
pic  hooks  into  the  flesh;  sending  quick,  tiny  root 
lets  through  the  skin  down  into  the  capillaries, 
sucking  life  and  thriving  and  never  to  be  torn  away 


Dragon  Worm  and  Moss  Death  291 

until  the  living  thing  it  clings  to  has  been  sapped 
dry.  Here  was  but  another  of  the  species  in 
which  the  development's  rate  was  incredibly 
accelerated.  Some  of  this  I  tried  to  explain  to 
O'Keefe  as  we  sped  along,  reassuring  him. 

"But  they  turned  to  moss  before  our  eyes!"  he 
said. 

Again  I  explained,  patiently.  But  he  seemed 
to  derive  no  comfort  at  all  from  my  assurances 
that  the  phenomena  were  entirely  natural  and, 
aside  from  their  more  terrifying  aspect,  of  peculiar 
interest  to  the  botanist. 

' '  I  know, ' '  was  all  he  would  say.  ' '  But  suppose 
one  of  those  things  had  burst  while  we  were  going 
through— God!" 

I  was  wondering  how  I  could  with  comparative 
safety  study  the  fungus  when  Rador  stopped;  in 
front  of  us  was  again  the  road  ribbon. 

' '  Now  is  all  danger  passed, "  he  said.  ' '  The  way 
lies  open  and  Lugur  has  fled " 

There  was  a  flash  from  the  road.  It  passed  me 
like  a  little  lariat  of  light.  It  struck  Larry  squarely 
between  the  eyes,  spread  over  his  face  and  drew 
itself  within ! 

"Down!"  cried  Rador,  and  hurled  me  to  the 
ground.  My  head  struck  sharply;  I  felt  myself 
grow  faint;  Olaf  fell  beside  me;  I  saw  the  green 
dwarf  draw  down  the  O'Keefe;  he  collapsed  limply, 
face  still,  eyes  staring.  A  shout — and  from  the 
roadway  poured  a  host  of  Lugur's  men;  I  could 
hear  Lugur  bellowing. 


292  The  Moon  Pool 

There  came  a  rush  of  little  feet;  soft,  fragrant 
draperies  brushed  my  face ;  dimly  I  watched  Lakla 
bend  over  the  Irishman. 

She  straightened — her  arms  swept  out  and  the 
writhing  vine,  with  its  tendrilled  heads  of  ruby 
bloom,  five  flames  of  misty  incandescence,  leaped 
into  the  faces  of  the  soldiers  now  close  upon  us. 
It  darted  at  their  throats,  striking,  coiling,  and 
striking  again ;  coiling  and  uncoiling  with  incredible 
rapidity  and  flying  from  leverage  points  of  throats, 
of  faces,  of  breasts  like  a  spring  endowed  with 
consciousness,  volition  and  hatred — and  those  it 
struck  stood  rigid  as  stone  with  faces  masks  of 
inhuman  fear  and  anguish;  and  those  still  un- 
stricken  fled. 

Another  rush  of  feet — and  down  upon  Lugur's 
forces  poured  the  frog-men,  their  booming  giant 
leading,  thrusting  with  their  lances,  tearing  and 
rending  with  talons  and  fangs  and  spurs. 

Against  that  onslaught  the  dwarfs  could  not 
stand.  They  raced  for  the  shells;  I  heard  Lugur 
shouting,  menacingly — and  then  Lakla's  voice, 
pealing  like  a  golden  bugle  of  wrath : 

"Go,  Lugur!"  she  cried.  "Go — that  you  and 
Yolara  and  your  Shining  One  may  die  together! 
Death  for  you,  Lugur — death  for  you  all!  Re 
member  Lugur — death ! " 

There  was  a  great  noise  within  my  head — no 
matter,  Lakla  was  here — Lakla  here — but  too 
late — Lugur  had  outplayed  us;  moss  death  nor 
dragon  worm  had  frightened  him  away — he  had 


Dragon  Worm  and  Moss  Death  293 

crept  back  to  trap  us — Lakla  had  come  too  late — 
Larry  was  dead — Larry!  But  I  had  heard  no 
banshee  wailing — and  Larry  had  said  he  could 
not  die  without  that  warning — no,  Larry  was  not 
dead.  So  ran  the  turbulent  current  of  my  mind. 

A  horny  arm  lifted  me;  two  enormous,  oddly 
gentle  saucer  eyes  were  staring  into  mine ;  my  head 
rolled;  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  Golden  Girl 
kneeling  beside  the  O'Keefe. 

The  noise  in  my  head  grew  thunderous — was 
carrying  me  away  on  its  thunder — swept  me  into 
soft,  blind  darkness. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE   CRIMSON   SEA 

I  WAS  in  the  heart  of  a  rose  pearl,  swinging, 
swinging;  no,  I  was  in  a  rosy  dawn  cloud,  pendu 
lous  in  space.  Consciousness  flooded  me;  in 
reality  I  was  in  the  arms  of  one  of  the  man  frogs, 
carrying  me  as  though  I  were  a  babe,  and  we 
were  passing  through  some  place  suffused  with 
glow  enough  like  heart  of  pearl  or  dawn  cloud  to 
justify  my  awakening  vagaries. 

Just  ahead  walked  Lakla  in  earnest  talk  with 
Rador,  and  content  enough  was  I  for  a  time  to 
watch  her.  She  had  thrown  off  the  metallic 
robes ;  her  thick  braids  of  golden  brown  with  their 
flame  glints  of  bronze  were  twined  in  a  high  coronal 
meshed  in  silken  net  of  green ;  little  clustering  curls 
escaped  from  it,  clinging  to  the  nape  of  the  proud 
white  neck,  shyly  kissing  it.  From  her  shoulders 
fell  a  loose,  sleeveless  garment  of  shimmering  green 
belted  with  a  high  golden  girdle;  skirt  folds  drop 
ping  barely  below  the  knees. 

She  had  cast  aside  her  buskins,  too,  and  the 
slender,  high-arched  feet  were  sandalled.  Be 
tween  the  buckled  edges  of  her  kirtle  I  caught 

294 


The  Crimson  Sea  295 

gleams  of  translucent  ivory  as  exquisitely  moulded, 
as  delectably  rounded,  as  those  revealed  so  naively 
beneath  the  hem. 

Something  was  knocking  at  the  doors  of  my 
consciousness — some  tragic  thing.  What  was  it? 
Larry!  Where  was  Larry?  I  remembered;  raised 
my  head  abruptly;  saw  at  my  side  another 
frog-man  carrying  O'Keefe,  and  behind  him, 
Olaf,  step  instinct  with  grief,  following  like 
some  faithful,  wistful  dog  who  has  lost  a  loved 
master.  Upon  my  movement  the  monster  bear 
ing  me  halted,  looked  down  inquiringly,  uttered 
a  deep,  booming  note  that  held  the  quality  of 
interrogation. 

Lakla  turned;  the  clear,  golden  eyes  were 
sorrowful,  the  sweet  mouth  drooping;  but  her 
loveliness,  her  gentleness,  that  undefmable  syn 
thesis  of  all  her  tender  self  that  seemed  always 
to  circle  her  with  an  atmosphere  of  lucid  normality, 
lulled  my  panic. 

"Drink  this,"  she  commanded,  holding  a  small 
vial  to  my  lips. 

Its  contents  were  aromatic,  unfamiliar  but 
astonishingly  effective,  for  as  soon  as  they  passed 
my  lips  I  felt  a  surge  of  strength;  consciousness 
was  restored. 

"Larry!"  I  cried.     "Is  he  dead?" 

Lakla  shook  her  head ;  her  eyes  were  troubled. 

"No,"  she  said;  "but  he  is  like  one  dead — 
and  yet  unlike " 

"Put  me  down, "  I  demanded  to  my  bearer. 


296  The  Moon  Pool 

He  tightened  his  hold;  round  eyes  upon  the 
Golden  Girl.  She  spoke — in  sonorous,  rever 
berating  monosyllables — and  I  was  set  upon  my 
feet;  I  leaped  to  the  side  of  the  Irishman.  He 
lay  limp,  with  a  disquieting,  abnormal  sequacity, 
as  though  every  muscle  were  utterly  flaccid;  the 
antithesis  of  the  rigor  mortis,  thank  God,  but 
terrifyingly  toward  the  other  end  of  its  arc;  a 
syncope  I  had  never  known.  The  flesh  was  stone 
cold;  the  pulse  barely  perceptible,  long  intervalled; 
the  respiration  undiscoverable ;  the  pupils  of  the 
eyes  were  enormously  dilated;  it  was  as  though 
life  had  been  drawn  from  every  nerve. 

"A  light  flashed  from  the  road.  It  struck  his 
face  and  seemed  to  sink  in, "  I  said. 

"I  saw,"  answered  Rador;  "but  what  it  was  I 
know  not;  and  I  thought  I  knew  all  the  weapons 
of  our  rulers."  He  glanced  at  me  curiously. 
"Some  talk  there  has  been  that  the  stranger  who 
came  with  you,  Double  Tongue,  was  making  new 
death  tools  for  Lugur, "  he  ended. 

Marakinoff!  The  Russian  at  work  already 
in  this  storehouse  of  devastating  energies,  fashion 
ing  the  weapons  for  his  plots!  The  Apocalyptic 
vision  swept  back  upon  me 

"He  is  not  dead."  Lakla's  voice  was  poignant. 
"He  is  not  dead;  and  the  Three  have  wondrous 
healing.  They  can  restore  him  if  they  will — and 
they  will,  they  will!"  For  a  moment  she  was 
silent.  ' '  Now  their  gods  help  Lugur  and  Yolara, " 
she  whispered;  "for  come  what  may,  whether  the 


The  Crimson  Sea  297 

Silent  Ones  be  strong  or  weak,  if  he  dies,  surely 
shall  I  fall  upon  them  and  I  will  slay  those  two — 
yea,  though  I,  too,  perish!" 

"Yolara  and  Lugur  shall  both  die."  Olaf's 
eyes  were  burning.  "But  Lugur  is  mine  to 
slay." 

That  pity  I  had  seen  before  in  Lakla's  eyes 
when  she  looked  upon  the  Norseman  banished  the 
white  wrath  from  them.  She  turned,  half  hur 
riedly,  as  though  to  escape  his  gaze. 

"Walk  with  us,"  she  said  to  me,  "unless  you 
are  still  weak." 

I  shook  my  head,  gave  a  last  look  at  O'Keefe; 
there  was  nothing  I  could  do;  I  stepped  beside  her. 
She  thrust  a  white  arm  into  mine  protectingly, 
the  wonderfully  moulded  hand  with  its  long, 
tapering  fingers  catching  about  my  wrist;  my 
heart  glowed  toward  her. 

"Your  medicine  is  potent,  handmaiden,"  I 
answered.  "And  the  touch  of  your  hand  would 
give  me  strength  enough,  even  had  I  not  drunk 
it, "  I  added  in  Larry's  best  manner. 

Her  eyes  danced,  trouble  flying. 

"Now,  that  was  well  spoken  for  such  a  man  of 
wisdom  as  Rador  tells  me  you  are,"  she  laughed; 
and  a  little  pang  shot  through  me.  Could  not  a 
lover  of  science  present  a  compliment  without  it 
always  seeming  to  be  as  unusual  as  plucking  a 
damask  rose  from  a  cabinet  of  fossils? 

Mustering  my  philosophy,  I  smiled  back  at  her. 
Again  I  noted  that  broad,  classic  brow,  with  the 


298  The  Moon  Pool 

little  tendrils  of  shining  bronze  caressing  it,  the 
tilted,  delicate,  nut-brown  brows  that  gave  a 
curious  touch  of  innocent  diablerie  to  the  lovely 
face — flowerlike,  pure,  high-bred,  a  touch  of 
roguishness,  subtly  alluring,  sparkling  over  the 
maiden  Madonna-ness  that  lay  ever  like  a  delicate, 
luminous  suggestion  beneath  it;  the  long,  black, 
curling  lashes — the  tender,  rounded,  bare  left 
breast 

"I  have  always  liked  you,"  she  murmured 
naively,  "since  first  I  saw  you  in  that  place  where 
the  Shining  One  goes  forth  into  your  world.  And 
I  am  glad  you  like  my  medicine  as  well  as  that  you 
carry  in  the  black  box  that  you  left  behind, "  she 
added  swiftly. 

"How  know  you  of  that,  Lakla?"  I  gasped. 

"Oft  and  oft  I  came  to  him  there,  and  to  you, 
while  you  lay  sleeping.  How  call  you  him?" 
She  paused. 

"Larry!"  I  said. 

"Larry!"  she  repeated  it  excellently.  "And 
you?" 

"Goodwin,"  said  Rador. 

I  bowed  quite  as  though  I  were  being  introduced 
to  some  charming  young  lady  met  in  that  old 
life  now  seemingly  aeons  removed. 

"Yes— Goodwin,"  she  said.  "Oft  and  oft  I 
came.  Sometimes  I  thought  you  saw  me.  And 
he — did  he  not  dream  of  me  sometimes?"  she 
asked  wistfully. 

"He  did,"   I   said,    "and  watched  for  you." 


The  Crimson  Sea  299 

Then  amazement  grew  vocal.  "But  how  came 
you?"  I  asked. 

"By  a  strange  road,"  she  whispered,  "to  see 
that  all  was  well  with  him — and  to  look  into  his 
heart;  for  I  feared  Yolara  and  her  beauty.  But 
I  saw  that  she  was  not  in  his  heart."  A  blush 
burned  over  her,  turning  even  the  little  bare 
breast  rosy.  "It  is  a  strange  road, "  she  went  on 
hurriedly.  "Many  times  have  I  followed  it  and 
watched  the  Shining  One  bear  back  its  prey  to  the 
blue  pool;  seen  the  woman  he  seeks" — she  made  a 
quick  gesture  toward  Olaf — "and  a  babe  cast 
from  her  arms  in  the  last  pang  of  her  mother  love; 
seen  another  woman  throw  herself  into  the  Shining 
One's  embrace  to  save  a  man  she  loved;  and  I 
could  not  help!"  Her  voice  grew  deep,  thrilled. 
"The  friend,  it  comes  to  me,  who  drew  you  here, 
Goodwin!" 

She  was  silent,  walking  as  one  who  sees  visions 
and  listens  to  voices  unheard  by  others.  Rador 
made  a  warning  gesture;  I  crowded  back  my 
questions,  glanced  about  me.  We  were  passing 
over  a  smooth  strand,  hard  packed  as  some  beach 
of  long-thrust-back  ocean.  It  was  like  crushed 
garnets,  each  grain  stained  deep  red,  faintly 
sparkling.  On  each  side  were  distances,  the  floor 
stretching  away  into  them  bare  of  vegetation — 
stretching  on  and  on  into  infinitudes  of  rosy  mist, 
even  as  did  the  space  above. 

Flanking  and  behind  us  marched  the  giant 
batrachians,  fivescore  of  them  at  least,  black  scale 


300  The  Moon  Pool 

and  crimson  scale  lustrous  and  gleaming  in  the 
rosaceous  radiance ;  saucer  eyes  shining  circles  of 
phosphorescence  green,  purple,  red;  spurs  clicking 
as  they  crouched  along  with  a  gait  at  once  gro 
tesque  and  formidable. 

Ahead  the  mist  deepened  into  a  ruddier  glow; 
through  it  a  long,  dark  line  began  to  appear — the 
mouth  I  thought  of  the  caverned  space  through 
which  we  were  going;  it  was  just  before  us;  over 
us — we  stood  bathed  in  a  flood  of  rubescence ! 

A  sea  stretched  before  us — a  crimson  sea, 
gleaming  like  that  lost  lacquer  of  royal  coral  and 
the  Flame  Dragon's  blood  which  Fu  S'cze  set  upon 
the  bower  he  built  for  his  stolen  sun  maiden — 
that  going  toward  it  she  might  think  it  the  sun 
itself  rising  over  the  summer  seas.  Unmoved  by 
wave  or  ripple,  it  was  placid  as  some  deep  wood 
land  pool  when  night  rushes  up  over  the  world. 

It  seemed  molten — or  as  though  some  hand 
great  enough  to  rock  earth  had  distilled  here  from 
conflagrations  of  autumn  sunsets  their  flaming 
essences. 

A  fish  broke  through,  large  as  a  shark,  blunt- 
headed,  flashing  bronze,  ridged  and  mailed  as 
though  with  serrate  plates  of  armour.  It  leaped 
high,  shaking  from  it  a  sparkling  spray  of  rubies; 
dropped  and  shot  up  a  geyser  of  fiery  gems. 

Across  my  line  of  vision,  moving  stately  over 
the  sea,  floated  a  half  globe,  luminous,  diaphanous, 
its  iridescence  melting  into  turquoise,  thence  to 
amethyst,  to  orange,  to  scarlet  shot  with  rose,  to 


The  Crimson  Sea  301 

vermilion,  a  translucent  green,  thence  back  into 
the  iridescence;  behind  it  four  others,  and  the 
least  of  them  ten  feet  in  diameter,  and  the  largest 
no  less  than  thirty.  They  drifted  past  like  bubbles 
blown  from  froth  of  rainbows  by  pipes  in  mouths 
of  Titans'  young.  Then  from  the  base  of  one  arose 
a  tangle  of  shimmering  strands,  long,  slender 
whip  lashes  that  played  about  and  sank  slowly 
again  beneath  the  crimson  surface. 

I  gasped — for  the  fish  had  been  a  ganoid — that 
ancient,  armoured  form  that  was  perhaps  the  most 
intelligent  of  all  life  on  our  planet  during  the 
Devonian  era,  but  which  for  age  upon  age  had 
vanished,  save  for  its  fossils  held  in  the  embrace 
of  the  stone  that  once  was  their  soft  bottom  beds ; 
and  the  half-globes  were  Medusa,  jelly-fish — but 
of  a  size,  luminosity,  and  colour  unheard  of. 

Now  Lakla  cupped  her  mouth  with  pink  palms 
and  sent  a  clarion  note  ringing  out.  The  ledge 
on  which  we  stood  continued  a  few  hundred  feet 
before  us,  falling  abruptly,  though  from  no  great 
height  to  the  Crimson  Sea;  at  right  and  left  it 
extended  in  a  long  semicircle.  Turning  to  the 
right  whence  she  had  sent  her  call,  I  saw  rising  a 
mile  or  more  away,  veiled  lightly  by  the  haze,  a  rain 
bow,  a  gigantic  prismatic  arch,  flattened,  I  thought, 
by  some  quality  of  the  strange  atmosphere.  It 
sprang  from  the  ruddy  strand,  leaped  the  crim 
son  tide,  and  dropped  three  miles  away  upon  a 
precipitous,  jagged  upthrust  of  rock  frowning 
black  from  the  lacquered  depths. 


302  The  Moon  Pool 

And  surmounting  a  higher  ledge  beyond  this 
upthrust  a  huge  dome  of  dull  gold,  Cyclopean, 
striking  eyes  and  mind  with  something  unhumanly 
alien,  baffling;  sending  the  mind  groping,  as  though 
across  the  deserts  of  space,  from  some  far-flung 
star,  should  fall  upon  us  linked  sounds,  coherent 
certainly,  meaningful  surely,  vaguely  familiar — 
yet  never  to  be  translated  into  any  symbol  or 
thought  of  our  own  particular  planet. 

The  sea  of  crimson  lacquer,  with  its  floating 
moons  of  luminous  colour — this  bow  of  prismed 
stone  leaping  to  the  weird  isle  crowned  by  the 
anomalous,  aureate — excrescence — the  half  human 
batrachians — the  elfland  through  which  we  had 
passed,  with  all  its  hidden  wonders  and  terrors — 
I  felt  the  foundations  of  my  cherished  knowledge 
shaking.  Was  this  all  a  dream?  Was  this  body 
of  mine  lying  somewhere,  fighting  a  fevered  death, 
and  all  these  but  images  floating  through  the 
breaking  chambers  of  my  brain?  My  knees 
shook;  involuntarily  I  groaned. 

Lakla  turned,  looked  at  me  anxiously,  slipped 
a  soft  arm  behind  me,  held  me  till  the  vertigo 
passed. 

"Patience,"  she  said.  "The  bearers  come. 
Soon  you  shall  rest." 

I  looked;  down  toward  us  from  the  bow's  end 
were  leaping  swiftly  another  score  of  the  frog-men. 
Some  bore  litters,  high,  handled,  not  unlike  palan 
quins 

"Asgard!"     Olaf  stood  beside  me,  eyes  burn- 


The  Crimson  Sea  303 

ing  pointing  to  the  arch.  "Bifrost  Bridge,  sharp 
as  sword  edge,  over  which  souls  go  to  Valhalla. 
And  she — she  is  a  Valkyr — a  sword  maiden,  Ja!" 

I  gripped  the  Norseman's  hand.  It  was  hot, 
and  a  pang  of  remorse  shot  through  me.  If  this 
place  had  so  shaken  me,  how  must  if  have  shaken 
Olaf  ?  It  was  with  relief  that  I  watched  him,  at 
Lakla's  gentle  command,  drop  into  one  of  the 
litters  and  lie  back,  eyes  closed,  as  two  of  the 
monsters  raised  its  yoke  to  their  scaled  shoulders. 
Nor  was  it  without  further  relief  that  I  myself 
lay  back  on  the  soft  velvety  cushions  of  another. 

The  cavalcade  began  to  move.  Lakla  had 
ordered  O'Keefe  placed  beside  her,  and  she  sat, 
knees  crossed  Orient  fashion,  leaning  over  the  pale 
head  on  her  lap,  the  white,  tapering  fingers  stray 
ing  fondly  through  his  hair. 

Presently  I  saw  her  reach  up,  slowly  unwind 
the  coronal  of  her  tresses,  shake  them  loose,  and 
let  them  fall  like  a  veil  over  her  and  him. 

Her  head  bent  low;  I  heard  a  soft  sobbing — I 
turned  away  my  gaze,  lorn  enough  in  my  own 
heart,  God  knew! 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   THREE   SILENT   ONES 

THE  arch  was  closer — and  in  my  awe  I  forgot 
for  the  moment  Larry  and  aught  else.  For  this 
was  no  rainbow,  no  thing  born  of  light  and  mist, 
no  Bifrost  Bridge  of  myth — no!  It  was  a  flying 
arch  of  stone,  stained  with  flares  of  Tyrian  purples, 
of  royal  scarlets,  of  blues  dark  as  the  Gulf  Stream's 
ribbon,  sapphires  soft  as  midday  May  skies, 
splashes  of  chromes  and  greens — a  palette  of 
giantry,  a  bridge  of  wizardry;  a  hundred,  nay,  a 
thousand,  times  greater  than  that  of  Utah  which 
the  Navaho  call  Nonnegozche  and  worship,  as 
well  they  may,  as  a  god,  and  which  is  itself  a 
rainbow  in  eternal  rock. 

It  sprang  from  the  ledge  and  winged  its  prodigi 
ous  length  in  one  low  arc  over  the  sea's  crimson 
breast,  as  though  in  some  ancient  paroxysm  of 
earth  it  had  been  hurled  molten,  crystallizing  into 
that  stupendous  span  and  still  flaming  with  the 
fires  that  had  moulded  it. 

Closer  we  came  and  closer,  while  I  watched 
spellbound;  now  we  were  at  its  head,  and  the 
litter-bearers  swept  upon  it.  All  of  five  hundred 

304 


The  Three  Silent  Ones         305 

feet  wide  it  was,  surface  smooth  as  a  city  road, 
sides  low  walled,  curving  inward  as  though  in  the 
jetting-out  of  its  making  the  edges  of  the  plastic 
rock  had  curled. 

On  and  on  we  sped ;  the  high  thrusting  precipices 
upon  which  the  bridge's  far  end  rested,  frowned 
close;  the  enigmatic,  dully  shining  dome  loomed 
ever  greater.  Now  we  had  reached  that  end; 
were  passing  over  a  smooth  plaza  whose  level 
floor  was  enclosed,  save  for  a  rift  in  front  of  us,  by 
the  fanged  tops  of  the  black  cliffs. 

From  this  rift  stretched  another  span,  half  a 
mile  long,  perhaps,  widening  at  its  centre  into  a 
broad  platform,  continuing  straight  to  two  massive 
gates  set  within  the  face  of  the  second  cliff  wall 
like  panels,  and  of  the  same  dull  gold  as  the  dome 
rising  high  beyond.  And  this  smaller  arch  leaped 
a  pit,  an  abyss,  of  which  the  outer  precipices 
were  the  rim  holding  back  from  the  pit  the  red 
flood. 

We  were  rapidly  approaching:  now  upon  the 
platform;  my  bearers  were  striding  closely  along 
the  side;  I  leaned  far  out — a  giddiness  seized  me! 
I  gazed  down  into  depth  upon  vertiginous  depth; 
an  abyss  indeed — an  abyss  dropping  to  world's 
base  like  that  in  which  the  Babylonians  believed 
writhed  Talaat,  the  serpent  mother  of  Chaos;  a 
pit  that  struck  down  into  earth's  heart  itself. 

Now,  what  was  that — distance  upon  unfathom 
able  distance  below?  A  stupendous  glowing  like 
the  green  fire  of  life  itself.  What  was  it  like?  I 


306  The  Moon  Pool 

had  it !  It  was  like  the  corona  of  the  sun  in  eclipse 
— that  burgeoning  that  makes  of  our  luminary 
when  moon  veils  it  an  incredible  blossoming  of 
splendours  in  the  black  heavens. 

And  strangely,  strangely,  it  was  like  the  Dweller's 
beauty  when  with  its  dazzling  spirallings  and 
writhings  it  raced  amid  its  storm  of  crystal  bell 
sounds ! 

The  abyss  was  behind  us ;  we  had  paused  at  the 
golden  portals ;  they  swung  inward.  A  wide  corri 
dor  filled  with  soft  light  was  before  us,  and  on  its 
threshold  stood — bizarre,  yellow  gems  gleaming, 
huge  muzzle  wide  in  what  was  evidently  meant 
for  a  smile  of  welcome — the  woman  frog  of  the 
Moon  Pool  wall. 

Lakla  raised  her  head;  swept  back  the  silken 
tent  of  her  hair  and  gazed  at  me  with  eyes  misty 
from  weeping.  The  frog-woman  crept  to  her  side; 
gazed  down  upon  Larry;  spoke — spoke — to  the 
Golden  Girl  in  a  swift  stream  of  the  sonorous, 
reverberant  monosyllables;  and  Lakla  answered 
her  in  kind.  The  webbed  digits  swept  over 
O'Keefe's  face,  felt  at  his  heart;  she  shook  her 
head  and  moved  ahead  of  us  up  the  passage. 

Still  borne  in  the  litters  we  went  on,  winding, 
ascending  until  at  last  they  were  set  down  in  a 
great  hall  carpeted  with  soft  fragrant  rushes  and 
into  which  from  high  narrow  slits  streamed  the 
crimson  light  from  without. 

I  jumped  over  to  Larry;  there  had  been  no 
change  in  his  condition ;  still  the  terrifying  limpness, 


The  Three  Silent  Ones         307 

the  slow,  infrequent  pulsation.  Rador  and  Olaf — 
and  the  fever  now  seemed  to  be  gone  from  him — 
came  and  stood  beside  me,  silent. 

"I  go  to  the  Three,"  said  Lakla.  "Wait  you 
here."  She  passed  through  a  curtaining;  then  as 
swiftly  as  she  had  gone  she  returned  through  the 
hangings,  tresses  braided,  a  swathing  of  golden 
gauze  about  her. 

"Rador,"  she  said,  "bear  you  Larry — for  into 
your  heart  the  Silent  Ones  would  look.  And  fear 
nothing,"  she  added  at  the  green  dwarf's  dis 
concerted,  almost  fearful  start. 

Rador  bowed,  was  thrust  aside  by  Olaf. 

"No,"  said  the  Norseman;  "I  will  carry  him." 

He  lifted  Larry  like  a  child  against  his  broad 
breast.  The  dwarf  glanced  quickly  at  Lakla;  she 
nodded. 

"Come!"  she  commanded,  and  held  aside  the 
folds. 

Of  that  journey  I  have  few  memories.  I  only 
know  that  we  went  through  corridor  upon  corridor ; 
successions  of  vast  halls  and  chambers,  some 
carpeted  with  the  rushes,  others  with  rugs  into 
which  the  feet  sank  as  into  deep,  soft  meadows; 
spaces  illumined  by  the  rubrous  light,  and  spaces 
in  which  softer  lights  held  sway. 

We  paused  before  a  slab  of  the  same  crimson 
stone  as  that  the  green  dwarf  had  called  the 
Portal,  and  upon  its  polished  surface  weaved 
the  same  unnameable  symbols.  The  Golden  GirL 
pressed  upon  its  side;  it  slipped  softly  back;  a 


308  The  Moon  Pool 

torrent  of  opalescence  gushed  out  of  the  opening — 
and  as  one  in  a  dream  I  entered. 

We  were,  I  knew,  just  under  the  dome;  but  for 
the  moment,  caught  in  the  flood  of  radiance,  I 
could  see  nothing.  It  was  like  being  held  within 
a  fire  opal — so  brilliant,  so  flashing,  was  it.  I 
closed  my  eyes,  opened  them;  the  lambency  cas 
caded  from  the  vast  curves  of  the  globular  walls; 
in  front  of  me  was  a  long,  narrow  opening  in  them, 
through  which,  far  away,  I  could  see  the  end  of 
the  wizards'  bridge  and  the  ledged  mouth  of  the 
cavern  through  which  we  had  come;  against 
the  light  from  within  beat  the  crimson  light  from 
without — and  was  checked  as  though  by  a  barrier. 

I  felt  Lakla's  touch ;  turned. 

A  hundred  paces  away  was  a  dais,  its  rim 
raised  a  yard  above  the  floor.  From  the  edge  of 
this  rim  streamed  upward  a  steady,  coruscating 
mist  of  the  opalescence,  veined  even  as  was  that 
of  the  Dweller's  shining  core  and  shot  with  milky 
shadows  like  curdled  moonlight;  up  it  stretched 
like  a  wall. 

Over  it,  from  it,  down  upon  me,  gazed  three 
faces — two  clearly  male,  one  a  woman's.  At  the 
first  I  thought  them  statues,  and  then  the  eyes  of 
them  gave  the  lie  to  me;  for  the  eyes  were  alive, 
terribly,  and  if  I  could  admit  the  word — super- 
naturally — alive. 

They  were  thrice  the  size  of  the  human  eye  and 
triangular,  the  apex  of  the  angle  upward ;  black  as 
jet,  pupilless,  filled  with  tiny,  leaping  red  flames. 


The  Three  Silent  Ones        309 

Over  them  were  foreheads,  not  as  ours — high 
and  broad  and  visored;  their  sides  drawn  forward 
into  a  vertical  ridge,  a  prominence,  an  upright 
wedge,  somewhat  like  the  visored  heads  of  a  few  of 
the  great  lizards — and  the  heads,  long,  narrowing 
at  the  back,  were  fully  twice  the  size  of  mankind's! 

Upon  the  brows  were  caps — and  with  a  fearful 
certainty  I  knew  that  they  were  not  caps — long, 
thick  strands  of  gleaming,  yellow,  feathered  scales 
thin  as  sequins!  Sharp,  curving  noses  like  the 
beaks  of  the  giant  condors;  mouths  thin,  austere; 
long,  powerful,  pointed  chins;  the — flesh — of  the 
faces  white  as  whitest  marble;  and  wreathing  up 
to  them,  covering  all  their  bodies,  the  shimmering, 
curdled,  misty  fires  of  opalescence! 

Olaf  stood  rigid;  my  own  heart  leaped  wildly. 
What — what  were  these  beings  ? 

I  forced  myself  to  look  again — and  from  their 
gaze  streamed  a  current  of  reassurance,  of  good  will 
— nay,  of  intense  spiritual  strength.  I  saw  that 
they  were  not  fierce,  not  ruthless,  not  inhuman, 
despite  their  strangeness;  no,  they  were  kindly;  in 
some  unmistakable  way,  benign  and  sorrowful — 
so  sorrowful !  I  straightened,  gazed  back  at  them 
fearlessly.  Olaf  drew  a  deep  breath,  gazed  steadily 
too,  the  hardness,  the  despair  wiped  from  his  face. 

Now  Lakla  drew  closer  to  the  dais;  the  three 
pairs  of  eyes  searched  hers,  the  woman's  with  an 
ineffable  tenderness ;  some  message  seemed  to  pass 
between  the  Three  and  the  Golden  Girl.  She 
bowed  low,  turned  to  the  Norseman. 


The  Moon  Pool 

"Place  Larry  there,"  she  said  softly — "there 
at  the  feet  of  the  Silent  Ones." 

She  pointed  into  the  radiant  mist ;  Olaf  started, 
hesitated,  stared  from  Lakla  to  the  Three,  searched 
for  a  moment  their  eyes — and  something  like  a 
smile  drifted  through  them.  He  stepped  forward, 
lifted  O'Keefe,  set  him  squarely  within  the  cov 
ering  light.  It  wavered,  rolled  upward,  swirled 
about  the  body,  steadied  again — and  within  it 
there  was  no  sign  of  Larry! 

Again  the  mist  wavered,  shook,  and  seemed  to 
climb  higher,  hiding  the  chins,  the  beaked  noses, 
the  brows  of  that  incredible  Trinity — but  before 
it  ceased  to  climb,  I  thought  the  yellow,  feathered 
heads  bent;  sensed  a  movement  as  though  they 
lifted  something. 

The  mist  fell;  the  eyes  gleamed  out  again,  in 
scrutable. 

And  groping  out  of  the  radiance,  pausing  at  the 
verge  of  the  dais,  leaping  down  from  it,  came 
Larry,  laughing,  filled  with  life,  blinking  as  one 
who  draws  from  darkness  into  sunshine.  He  saw 
Lakla,  sprang  to  her,  gripped  her  in  his  arms. 

' '  Lakla ! "  he  cried .  ' '  Mavourneen !  ' '  She  slipped 
from  his  embrace,  blushing,  glancing  at  the  Three 
shyly,  half -fearfully.  And  again  I  saw  the  tender 
ness  creep  into  the  inky,  flame-shot  orbs  of  the 
woman  being;  and  a  tenderness  in  the  others  too 
— as  though  they  regarded  some  well-beloved  child. 

"You  lay  in  the  arms  of  Death,  Larry,"  she 
said.  "And  the  Silent  Ones  drew  you  from  him. 


The  Three  Silent  Ones 

Do  homage  to  the  Silent  Ones,  Larry,  for  they  are 
good  and  they  are  mighty!" 

She  turned  his  head  with  one  of  the  long,  white 
hands — and  he  looked  into  the  faces  of  the  Three ; 
looked  long,  was  shaken  even  as  had  been  Olaf 
and  myself;  was  swept  by  that  same  wave  of 
power  and  of — of — what  can  I  call  it? — holiness 
that  streamed  from  them. 

Then  for  the  first  time  I  saw  real  awe  mount 
into  his  face.  Another  moment  he  stared — and 
dropped  upon  one  knee  and  bowed  his  head  before 
them  as  would  a  worshipper  before  the  shrine  of 
his  saint.  And — I  am  not  ashamed  to  tell  it — I 
joined  him;  and  with  us  knelt  Lakla  and  Olaf  and 
Rador. 

The  mist  of  fiery  opal  swirled  up  about  the 
Three;  hid  them. 

And  with  a  long,  deep,  joyous  sigh  Lakla  took 
Larry's  hand,  drew  him  to  his  feet,  and  silently 
we  followed  them  out  of  that  hall  of  wonder. 

But  why,  in  going,  did  the  thought  come  to  me 
that  from  where  the  Three  sat  throned  they  ever 
watched  the  cavern  mouth  that  was  the  door  into 
their  abode;  and  looked  down  ever  into  the  un 
fathomable  depth  in  which  glowed  and  pulsed  that 
mystic  flower,  colossal,  awesome,  of  green  flame 
that  had  seemed  to  me  fire  of  life  itself  ? 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  WOOING  OF  LAKLA 

I  HAD  slept  soundly  and  dreamlessly;  I  wakened 
quietly  in  the  great  chamber  into  which  Rador 
had  ushered  O'Keefe  and  myself  after  that  cul 
minating  experience  of  crowded,  nerve-racking 
hours — the  facing  of  the  Three. 

Now,  lying  gazing  upward  at  the  high-vaulted 
ceiling,  I  heard  Larry's  voice: 

"They  look  like  birds."  Evidently  he  was 
thinking  of  the  Three;  a  silence — then:  "Yes,  they 
look  like  birds — and  they  look,  and  it's  meaning 
no  disrespect  to  them  I  am  at  all,  they  look  like 
lizards" — another  silence — "and  they  look  like 
some  sort  of  gods,  and,  by  the  good  sword-arm  of 
Brian  Boru,  they  look  human,  too!  And  it's 
none  of  them  they  are  either,  so  what — what  the 
— what  the  sainted  St.  Bridget  are  they?"  An 
other  short  silence,  and  then  in  a  tone  of  awed 
and  absolute  conviction :  "That's  it,  sure!  That's 
what  they  are — it  all  hangs  in — they  couldn't 
be  anything  else " 

He  gave  a  whoop ;  a  pillow  shot  over  and  caught 
i  he  across  the  head. 

312 


The  Wooing  of  Lakla         313 

"Wake  up!"  shouted  Larry.  "Wake  up,  ye 
seething  caldron  of  fossilized  superstitions !  Wake 
up,  ye  bogy-haunted  man  of  scientific  unwisdom!" 

Under  pillow  and  insults  I  bounced  to  my  feet, 
filled  for  a  moment  with  quite  real  wrath;  he  lay 
back,  roaring  with  laughter,  and  my  anger  was 
swept  away. 

"Doc,"  he  said,  very  seriously,  after  this,  "I 
know  who  the  Three  are!" 

"Yes?"  I  queried,  with  studied  sarcasm. 

"Yes? "he mimicked.  "Yes!  Ye— ye— "  He 
paused  under  the  menace  of  my  look,  grinned. 
"Yes,  I  know,"  he  continued.  "They're  of  the 
Tuatha  De,  the  old  ones,  the  great  people  of 
Ireland,  that's  who  they  are!" 

I  knew,  of  course,  of  the  Tuatha  De  Danann, 
the  tribes  of  the  god  Danu,  the  half-legendary, 
half -historical  clan  who  found  their  home  in  Erin 
some  four  thousand  years  before  the  Christian 
era,  and  who  have  left  so  deep  an  impress  upon  the 
Celtic  mind  and  its  myths. 

"Yes,"  said  Larry  again,  "the  Tuatha  De — 
the  Ancient  Ones  who  had  spells  that  could  compel 
Mananan,  who  is  the  spirit  of  all  the  seas,  an' 
Keithor,  who  is  the  god  of  all  green  living  things, 
an'  even  Hesus,  the  unseen  god,  whose  pulse  is  the 
pulse  of  all  the  firmament;  yes,  an'  Orchil  too, 
who  sits  within  the  earth  an'  weaves  with  the 
shuttle  of  mystery  and  her  three  looms  of  birth 
an'  life  an'  death — even  Orchil  would  weave  as 
they  commanded ! ' ' 


3H  The  Moon  Pool 

He  was  silent — then: 

"They  are  of  them — the  mighty  ones — why 
else  would  I  have  bent  my  knee  to  them  as  I 
would  have  to  the  spirit  of  my  dead  mother? 
Why  else  would  Lakla,  whose  gold-brown  hair  is 
the  hair  of  Eilidh  the  Fair,  whose  mouth  is  the 
sweet  mouth  of  Deirdre,  an'  whose  soul  walked 
with  mine  ages  agone  among  the  fragrant  green 
myrtle  of  Erin,  serve  them?"  he  whispered,  eyes 
full  of  dream. 

"Have  you  any  idea  how  they  got  here?"  I 
asked,  not  unreasonably. 

"I  haven't  thought  about  that,"  he  replied 
somewhat  testily.  "But  at  once,  me  excellent 
man  o'  wisdom,  a  number  occur  to  me.  One  of 
them  is  that  this  little  party  of  three  might  have 
stopped  here  on  their  way  to  Ireland,  an'  for  good 
reasons  of  their  own  decided  to  stay  a  while;  an' 
another  is  that  they  might  have  come  here  after 
ward,  havin'  got  wind  of  what  those  rats  out  there 
were  contemplatin',  and  have  stayed  on  the  job 
till  the  time  was  ripe  to  save  Ireland  from  'em; 
the  rest  of  the  world,  too,  of  course,"  he  added 
magnanimously,  "but  Ireland  in  particular.  And 
do  any  of  those  reasons  appeal  to  ye?" 

I  shook  my  head. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think?"  he  asked  wearily. 

"I  think,"  I  said  cautiously,  "that  we  face  an 
evolution  of  highly  intelligent  beings  from  ancestral 
sources  radically  removed  from  those  through 
which  mankind  ascended.  These  half-human, 


The  Wooing  of  Lakla         315 

highly  developed  batrachians  they  call  the  Akka 
prove  that  evolution  in  these  caverned  spaces 
has  certainly  pursued  one  different  path  than 
on  earth.  The  Englishman,  Wells,  wrote  an  im 
aginative  and  very  entertaining  book  concern 
ing  an  invasion  of  earth  by  Martians,  and  he  made 
his  Martians  enormously  specialized  cuttlefish. 
There  was  nothing  inherently  improbable  in 
Wells's  choice.  Man  is  the  ruling  animal  of  earth 
today  solely  by  reason  of  a  series  of  accidents; 
under  another  series  spiders  or  ants,  or  even 
elephants,  could  have  become  the  dominant  race. 

"I  think,"  I  said,  even  more  cautiously,  "that 
the  race  to  which  the  Three  belong  never  appeared 
on  earth's  surface;  that  their  development  took 
place  here,  unhindered  through  aeons.  And  if 
this  be  true,  the  structure  of  their  brains,  and 
therefore  all  their  reactions,  must  be  different 
from  ours.  Hence  their  knowledge  and  command 
of  energies  unfamiliar  to  us — and  hence  also  the 
question  whether  they  may  not  have  an  entirely 
different  sense  of  values,  of  justice — and  that  is 
rather  terrifying,"  I  concluded. 

Larry  shook  his  head. 

"That  last  sort  of  knocks  your  argument, 
Doc, ' '  he  said.  ' '  They  had  sense  of  justice  enough 
to  help  me  out — and  certainly  they  know  love — 
for  I  saw  the  way  they  looked  at  Lakla;  and 
sorrow — for  there  was  no  mistaking  that  in  their 
faces. 

"No,"  he  went  on.     "I  hold  to  my  own  idea. 


The  Moon  Pool 

They're  of  the  Old  People.  The  little  leprechaun 
knew  his  way  here,  an'  I'll  bet  it  was  they  who  sent 
the  word.  An'  if  the  O'Keefe  banshee  comes  here 
— which  save  the  mark! — I'll  bet  she'll  drop  in 
on  the  Silent  Ones  for  a  social  visit  before  she  an' 
her  clan  get  busy.  Well,  it'll  make  her  feel  more 
at  home,  the  good  old  body.  No,  Doc,  no, "  he 
concluded,  "I'm  right;  it  all  fits  in  too  well  to  be 
wrong." 

I  made  a  last  despairing  attempt. 

"Is  there  anything  anywhere  in  Ireland  that 
would  indicate  that  the  Tuatha  De  ever  looked 
like  the  Three?"  I  asked — and  again  I  had  spoken 
most  unfortunately. 

"Is  there?"  he  shouted.  "Is  there?  By  the 
kilt  of  Cormack  Maccormack,  I'm  glad  ye  re 
minded  me.  It  was  worryin'  me  a  little  meself. 
There  was  Daghda,  who  could  put  on  the  head 
of  a  great  boar  an'  the  body  of  a  giant  fish  and 
cleave  the  waves  an'  tear  to  pieces  the  birlins 
of  any  who  came  against  Erin;  an'  there  was 
Rinn- 

How  many  more  of  the  metamorphoses  of  the 
old  people  I  might  have  heard,  I  do  not  know,  for 
the  curtains  parted  and  in  walked  Rador. 

"You  have  rested  well,"  he  smiled,  "I  can 
see.  The  handmaiden  bade  me  call  you.  You 
are  to  eat  with  her  in  her  garden." 

Down  long  corridors  we  trod  and  out  upon  a 
gardened  terrace  as  beautiful  as  any  of  those  of 
Yolara's  city;  bowered,  blossoming,  fragrant,  set 


The  Wooing  of  Lakla         31? 

high  upon  the  cliffs  beside  the  domed  castle.  A 
table,  as  of  milky  jade,  was  spread  at  one  corner, 
but  the  Golden  Girl  was  not  there.  A  little  path 
ran  on  and  up,  hemmed  in  by  the  mass  of  verdure. 
I  looked  at  it  longingly;  Rador  saw  the  glance, 
interpreted  it,  and  led  me  up  the  stepped,  sharp 
slope  into  a  rocky  embrasure. 

Here  I  was  above  the  foliage,  and  everywhere 
the  view  was  clear.  Below  me  stretched  the 
incredible  bridge,  with  the  frog  people  hurrying 
back  and  forth  upon  it.  A  pinnacle  at  my  side 
hid  the  abyss.  My  eyes  followed  the  cavern 
ledge.  Above  it  the  rock  rose  bare,  but  at  the  ends 
of  the  semicircular  strand  a  luxuriant  vegetation 
began,  stretching  from  the  crimson  shores  back 
into  far  distances.  Of  browns  and  reds  and 
yellows,  like  an  autumn  forest,  was  the  foliage, 
with  here  and  there  patches  of  dark-green,  as  of 
conifers.  Five  miles  or  more,  on  each  side,  the 
forests  swept,  and  then  were  lost  to  sight  in  the 
haze. 

I  turned  and  faced  an  immensity  of  crimson 
waters,  unbroken,  a  true  sea,  if  ever  there  was  one. 
A  breeze  blew — the  first  real  wind  I  had  encoun 
tered  in  the  hidden  places;  under  it  the  surface, 
that  had  been  as  molten  lacquer,  rippled  and  dim 
pled.  Little  waves  broke  with  a  spray  of  rose- 
pearls  and  rubies.  The  giant  Medusae  drifted — 
stately,  luminous,  kaleidoscopic  elfin  moons. 

Far  down,  peeping  around  a  jutting  tower 
of  the  cliff,  I  saw  dipping  with  the  motion  of  the 


3i 8  The  Moon  Pool 

waves  a  floating  garden.  The  flowers,  too,  were 
luminous — indeed  sparkling — gleaming  brilliants 
of  scarlet  and  vermilions  lighter  than  the  flood 
on  which  they  lay,  mauves  and  odd  shades  of 
reddish-blue.  They  gleamed  and  shone  like  a 
little  lake  of  jewels. 

Rador  broke  in  upon  my  musings. 

"Lakla  comes!     Let  us  go  down." 

It  was  a  shy  Lakla  who  came  slowly  around  the 
end  of  the  path  and,  blushing  furiously,  held  her 
hands  out  to  Larry.  And  the  Irishman  took 
them,  placed  them  over  his  heart,  kissed  them  with 
a  tenderness  that  had  been  lacking  in  the  half- 
mocking,  half-fierce  caresses  he  had  given  the 
priestess.  She  blushed  deeper,  holding  out  the 
tapering  fingers — then  presse'd  them  to  her  own 
heart. 

"I  like  the  touch  of  your  lips,  Larry,"  she 
whispered.  "They  warm  me  here" — she  pressed 
her  heart  again — "and  they  send  little  sparkles 
of  light  through  me."  Her  brows  tilted  perplex 
edly,  accenting  the  nuance  of  diablerie,  delicate 
and  fascinating,  that  they  cast  upon  the  flower 
face. 

"Do  you?"  whispered  the  O'Keefe  fervently. 
"Do  you,  Lakla?"  He  bent  toward  her.  She 
caught  the  amused  glance  of  Rador;  drew  herself 
aside  half -haughtily. 

"Rador,  "  she  said,  "is  it  not  time  that  you  and 
the  strong  one,  Olaf,  were  setting  forth?" 

"Truly  it  is,   handmaiden,"    he  answered  re- 


The  Wooing  of  Lakla 

spectfully  enough — yet  with  a  current  of  laughter 
under  his  words.  "But  as  you  know  the  strong 
one,  Olaf,  wished  to  see  his  friends  here  before 
we  were  gone — and  he  comes  even  now,"  he 
added,  glancing  down  the  pathway,  along  which 
came  striding  the  Norseman. 

As  he  faced  us  I  saw  that  a  transformation  had 
been  wrought  in  him.  Gone  was  the  pitiful  seek 
ing,  and  gone  too  the  just  as  pitiful  hope.  The 
set  face  softened  as  he  looked  at  the  Golden  Girl 
and  bowed  low  to  her.  He  thrust  a  hand  to 
O'Keefe  and  to  me. 

"There  is  to  be  battle,"  he  said.  "I  go  with 
Rador  to  call  the  armies  of  these  frog  people. 
As  for  me — Lakla  has  spoken.  There  is  no  hope 
for — for  mine  Helma  in  life,  but  there  is  hope 
that  we  destroy  the  Shining  Devil  and  give  mine 
Helma  peace.  And  with  that  I  am  well  content, 
Ja!  Well  content!"  He  gripped  our  hands 
again.  "We  will  fight!"  he  muttered.  "Ja! 
And  I  will  have  vengeance!"  The  sternness  re 
turned  ;  and  with  a  salute  Rador  and  he  were  gone. 

Two  great  tears  rolled  from  the  golden  eyes  of 
Lakla. 

"Not  even  the  Silent  Ones  can  heal  those  the 
Shining  One  has  taken,"  she  said.  "He  asked 
me — and  it  was  better  that  I  tell  him.  It  is  part 
of  the  Three's  — punishment — but  of  that  you  will 
soon  learn,  "  she  went  on  hurriedly.  "Ask  me  no 
questions  now  of  the  Silent  Ones.  I  thought  it 
better  for  Olaf  to  go  with  Rador,  to  busy  himself, 


320  The  Moon  Pool 

to  give  his  mind  other  than  sorrow  upon  which 
to  feed." 

Up  the  path  came  five  of  the  frog-women, 
bearing  platters  and  ewers.  Their  bracelets  and 
anklets  of  jewels  were  tinkling;  their  middles 
covered  with  short  kirtles  of  woven  cloth  studded 
with  the  sparkling  ornaments. 

And  here  let  me  say  that  if  I  have  given  the 
impression  that  the  Akka  are  simply  magnified 
frogs,  I  regret  it.  Froglike  they  are,  and  hence 
my  phrase  for  them — but  as  unlike  the  frog,  as 
we  know  it,  as  man  is  unlike  the  chimpanzee. 
Springing,  I  hazard,  from  the  stegocephalia,  the 
ancestor  of  the  frogs,  these  batrachians  followed  a 
different  line  of  evolution  and  acquired  the  up 
right  position  just  as  man  did  his  from  the  four- 
footed  folk. 

The  great  staring  eyes,  the  shape  of  the  muzzle 
were  froglike,  but  the  highly  developed  brain  had 
set  upon  the  head  and  shape  of  it  vital  differences. 
The  forehead,  for  instance,  was  not  low,  flat, 
and  retreating — its  frontal  arch  was  well  defined. 
The  head  was,  in  a  sense,  shapely,  and  with  the 
females  the  great  horny  carapace  that  stood 
over  it  like  a  fantastic  helmet  was  much  modified, 
as  were  the  spurs  that  were  so  formidable  in  the 
male ;  colouration  was  different  also.  The  torso  was 
upright;  the  legs  a  little  bent,  giving  them  their 
crouching  gait — but  I  wander  from  my  subject. r 

1  The  Akka  are  viviparous.  The  female  produces  progeny 
at  five-year  intervals,  never  more  than  two  at  a  time.  They  are 


The  Wooing  of  Lakla         321 

They  set  their  burdens  down.  Larry  looked  at 
them  with  interest. 

"You  surely  have  those  things  well  trained, 
Lakla,"  he  said. 

" Things!"  The  handmaiden  arose,  eyes  flash 
ing  with  indignation.  "You  call  my  Akka 
things!" 

"Well,"  said  Larry,  a  bit  taken  aback,  "what 
do  you  call  them?" 

"My  Akka  are  a  people,"  she  retorted.  "As 
much  a  people  as  your  race  or  mine.  They  are 
good  and  loyal,  and  they  have  speech  and  arts, 
and  they  slay  not,  save  for  food  or  to  protect 
themselves.  And  I  think  them  beautiful,  Larry, 
beautiful!"  She  stamped  her  foot.  "And  you 
call  them — things  !" 

Beautiful!  These?  Yet,  after  all,  they  were, 
in  their  grotesque  fashion.  And  to  Lakla,  sur 
rounded  by  them,  from  babyhood,  they  were  not 
strange,  at  all.  Why  shouldn't  she  think  them 
beautiful?  The  same  thought  must  have  struck 
O'Keefe,  for  he  flushed  guiltily. 

"I  think  them  beautiful,  too,  Lakla,"  he  said 
remorsefully.  "It's  my  not  knowing  your  tongue 

monogamous,  like  certain  of  our  own  Ranida.  Pending  my 
monograph  upon  what  little  I  had  time  to  learn  of  their  inter 
esting  habits  and  customs,  the  curious  will  find  instruction 
and  entertainment  in  Brandes  and  Schvenichen's  Brutpfleige 
der  Schwanzlosen  Batrachier,  p.  395;  and  Lilian  V.  Sampson's 
Unusual  Modes  of  Breeding  among  Anura,  Amer.  Nat.  xxxiv., 
1900. 

W.  T.  G. 


322  The  Moon  Pool 

too  well  that  traps  me.  Truly,  I  think  them 
beautiful — I'd  tell  them  so,  if  I  knew  their 
talk." 

Lakla  dimpled,  laughed — spoke  to  the  attend 
ants  in  that  strange  speech  that  was  unquestion 
ably  a  language;  they  bridled,  looked  at  O'Keefe 
with  fantastic  coquetry,  clacked  and  boomed 
softly  among  themselves. 

"They  say  they  like  you  better  than  the  men  of 
Muria, "  laughed  Lakla. 

"Did  I  ever  think  I'd  be  swapping  compliments 
with  lady  frogs!"  he  murmured  to  me.  "Buck 
up,  Larry — keep  your  eyes  on  the  captive  Irish 
princess ! "  he  muttered  to  himself. 

"Rador  goes  to  meet  one  of  the  ladala  who 
is  slipping  through  with  news,"  said  the  Golden 
Girl  as  we  addressed  ourselves  to  the  food.  "Then, 
with  Nak,  he  and  Olaf  go  to  muster  the  Akka — 
for  there  will  be  battle,  and  we  must  prepare. 
Nak, "  she  added,  "is  he  who  went  before  me  when 
you  were  dancing  with  Yolara,  Larry."  She  stole 
a  swift,  mischievous  glance  at  him.  ' '  He  is  head 
man  of  all  the  Akka." 

"Just  what  forces  can  we  muster  against  them 
when  they  come,  darlin'?"  said  Larry. 

"Darlin'?"— the  Golden  Girl  had  caught  the 
caress  of  the  word — "what's  that?" 

"It's  a  little  word  that  means  Lakla,"  he  an 
swered.  "It  does — that  is,  when  I  say  it;  when 
you  say  it,  then  it  means  Larry." 

"I  like  that  word,"  mused  Lakla. 


The  Wooing  of  Lakla         323 

"You  can  even  say  Larry  darlin'!"  suggested 
O'Keefe. 

"Larry  darlin'!"  said  Lakla.  "When  they 
come  we  shall  have  first  of  all  my  Akka " 

"Can  they  fight,  mavourneen?"  interrupted 
Larry. 

"Can  they  fight!  My  Akka  I"  Again  her 
eyes  flashed.  "They  will  fight  to  the  last  of 
them — with  the  spears  that  give  the  swift  rotting, 
covered,  as  they  are,  with  the  jelly  of  those  Saddu 
there —  "  She  pointed  through  a  rift  in  the  foliage 
across  which,  on  the  surface  of  the  sea,  was  floating 
one  of  the  moon  globes — and  now  I  know  why 
Rador  had  warned  Larry  against  a  plunge  there. 
"With  spears  and  clubs  and  with  teeth  and  nails 
and  spurs — they  are  a  strong  and  brave  people, 
Larry — darlin',  and  though  they  hurl  the  Keth 
at  them,  it  is  slow  to  work  upon  them,  and  they 
slay  even  while  they  are  passing  into  the  nothing 
ness!" 

"And  have  we  none  of  the  Keth?"  he  asked. 

"No" — she  shook  her  head — "none  of  their 
weapons  have  we  here,  although  it  was — it  was 
the  Ancient  Ones  who  shaped  them." 

"But  the  Three  are  of  the  Ancient  Ones?"  I 
cried .  ' '  Surely  th  ey  can  tell ' ' 

"No,"  she  said  slowly.  "No — there  is  some 
thing  you  must  know — and  soon;  and  then  the 
Silent  Ones  say  you  will  understand.  You, 
especially,  Goodwin,  who  worship  wisdom." 

"Then,"    said    Larry,    "we   have   the   Akka; 


324  The  Moon  Pool 

and  we  have  the  four  men  of  us,  and  among  us 
three  guns  and  about  a  hundred  cartridges — an' — 
an'  the  power  of  the  Three — but  what  about  the 
Shining  One,  Fireworks 

"I  do  not  know."  Again  the  indecision  that 
had  been  in  her  eyes  when  Yolara  had  launched 
her  defiance  crept  back.  "The  Shining  One  is 
strong — and  he  has  his — slaves!" 

"Well,  we'd  better  get  busy  good  and  quick!" 
the  O'Keefe's  voice  rang.  But  Lakla,  for  some 
reason  of  her  own,  would  pursue  the  matter  no 
further.  The  trouble  fled  from  her  eyes — they 
danced. 

"Larry  darlin'?"  she  murmured.  "I  like  the 
touch  of  your  lips ' 

"You  do?"  he  whispered,  all  thought  flying  of 
anything  but  the  beautiful,  provocative  face  so 
close  to  his.  "Then,  acushla,  you're  goin'  to  get 
acquainted  with  'em!  Turn  your  head,  Doc!" 
he  said. 

And  I  turned  it.  There  was  quite  a  long  silence, 
broken  by  an  interested,  soft  outburst  of  gentle 
beamings  from  the  serving  frog-maids.  I  stole 
a  glance  behind  me.  Lakla's  head  lay  on  the 
Irishman's  shoulder,  the  golden  eyes  misty  sun- 
pools  of  love  and  adoration;  and  the  O'Keefe,  a 
new  look  of  power  and  strength  upon  his  clear-cut 
features,  was  gazing  down  into  them  with  that 
look  which  rises  only  from  the  heart  touched  for 
the  first  time  with  that  true,  all-powerful  love, 
which  is  the  pulse  of  the  universe  itself,  the  real 


The  Wooing  of  Lakla         325 

music  of  the  spheres  of  which  Plato  dreamed,  the 
love  that  is  stronger  than  death  itself,  immortal 
as  the  high  gods  and  the  true  soul  of  all  that 
mystery  we  call  life. 

Then  Lakla  raised  her  hands,  pressed  down 
Larry's  head,  kissed  him  between  the  eyes,  drew 
herself  with  a  trembling  little  laugh  from  his 
embrace. 

"The  future  Mrs.  Larry  O'Keefe,  Goodwin," 
said  Larry  to  me  a  little  unsteadily. 

I  took  their  hands — and  Lakla  kissed  me ! 

She  turned  to  the  booming — smiling — frog- 
maids;  gave  them  some  command,  for  they  filed 
away  down  the  path.  Suddenly  I  felt,  well,  a 
little  superfluous. 

"If  you  don't  mind,"  I  said,  "I  think  I'll  go  up 
the  path  there  again  and  look  about." 

But  they  were  so  engrossed  with  each  other 
that  they  did  not  even  hear  me — so  I  walked 
away,  up  to  the  embrasure  where  Rador  had  taken 
me.  The  movement  of  the  batrachians  over  the 
bridge  had  ceased.  Dimly  at  the  far  end  I  could 
see  the  cluster  of  the  garrison.  My  thoughts 
flew  back  to  Lakla  and  to  Larry. 

What  was  to  be  the  end? 

If  we  won,  if  we  were  able  to  pass  from  this 
place,  could  she  live  in  our  world?  A  product  of 
these  caverns  with  their  atmosphere  and  light 
that  seemed  in  some  subtle  way  to  be  both  food 
and  drink — how  would  she  react  to  the  unfamiliar 
foods  and  air  and  light  of  outer  earth?  Further, 


326  The  Moon  Pool 

here  so  far  as  I  was  able  to  discover,  there  were 
no  malignant  bacilli — what  immunity  could  Lakla 
have  then  to  those  microscopic  evils  without,  which 
only  long  ages  of  sickness  and  death  have  bought 
for  us  a  modicum  of  protection?  I  began  to  be 
oppressed.  Surely  they  had  been  long  enough  by 
themselves.  I  went  down  the  path. 

I  heard  Larry. 

"It's  a  green  land,  mavourneen.  And  the  sea 
rocks  and  dimples  around  it — blue  as  the  heavens, 
green  as  the  isle  itself,  and  foam  horses  toss  their 
white  manes,  and  the  great  clean  winds  blow  over 
it,  and  the  sun  shines  down  on  it  like  your  eyes, 
acushla " 

"And  are  you  a  king  of  Ireland,  Larry  darlin'?" 
Thus  Lakla 

But  enough ! 

At  last  we  turned  to  go — and  around  the  corner 
of  the  path  I  caught  another  glimpse  of  what  I  have 
called  the  lake  of  jewels.  I  pointed  to  it. 

"Those  are  lovely  flowers,  Lakla,"  I  said.  "I 
have  never  seen  anything  like  them  in  the  place 
from  whence  we  come." 

She  followed  my  pointing  finger — laughed. 

"Come,"  she  said,  "let  me  show  you  them." 

She  ran  down  an  intersecting  way,  we  following; 
came  out  of  it  upon  a  little  ledge  close  to  the  brink, 
three  feet  or  more  I  suppose  about  it.  The 
Golden  Girl's  voice  ran  out  in  a  high-pitched, 
tremulous,  throbbing  call. 

The  lake  of  jewels  stirred  as  though  a  breeze 


The  Wooing  of  Lakla         327 

had  passed  over  it ;  stirred,  shook,  and  then  began 
to  move  swiftly,  a  shimmering  torrent  of  shining 
flowers  down  upon  us!  She  called  again,  the 
movement  became  more  rapid;  the  gem  blooms 
streamed  closer — closer,  wavering,  shifting,  wind 
ing — at  our  very  feet.  Above  them  hovered  a 
little  radiant  mist.  The  Golden  Girl  leaned  over; 
called  softly,  and  up  from  the  sparkling  mass  shot 
a  green  vine  whose  heads  were  five  flowers  of 
flaming  ruby — shot  up,  flew  into  her  hand  and 
coiled  about  the  white  arm,  its  quintette  of  lam 
bent  blossoms — regarding  us ! 

It  was  the  thing  Lakla  had  called  the  Yekta; 
that  with  which  she  had  threatened  the  priestess; 
the  thing  that  carried  the  dreadful  death — and  the 
Golden  Girl  was  handling  it  like  a  rose! 

Larry  swore — I  looked  at  the  thing  more  closely. 
It  was  a  hydroid,  a  development  of  that  strange 
animal- vegetable  that,  sometimes  almost  micro 
scopic,  waves  in  the  sea  depths  like  a  cluster  of 
flowers  paralyzing  its  prey  with  the  mysterious 
force  that  dwells  in  its  blossom  heads!1 

1  The  Yekta  of  the  Crimson  Sea  are  as  extraordinary  develop 
ments  of  hydroid  forms  as  the  giant  Medusa,  of  which,  of  course, 
they  are  not  too  remote  cousins.  The  closest  resemblances  to 
them  in  outer  water  forms  are  among  the  Gymnoblastic  Hydroids, 
notably  Clavetella  prolifera,  a  most  interesting  ambulatory  form 
of  six  tentacles.  Almost  every  bather  in  Southern  waters, 
Northern  too,  knows  the  pain  that  contact  with  certain  "jelly 
fish"  produces.  The  Yekta' s  development  was  prodigious  and, 
to  us,  monstrous.  It  secretes  in  its  five  heads  an  almost  in 
credibly  swiftly  acting  poison  which  I  suspect,  for  I  had  no 
chance  to  verify  the  theory,  destroys  the  entire  nervous  system 


328  The  Moon  Pool 

"Put  it  down,  Lakla,"  the  distress  in  O'Keefe's 
voice  was  deep.  Lakla  laughed  mischievously, 
caught  the  real  fear  for  her  in  his  eyes;  opened 
her  hand,  gave  another  faint  call — and  back  it 
flew  to  its  fellows. 

"Why,  it  wouldn't  hurt  me,  Larry!"  she  ex- 
postulated.  ' '  They  know  me ! ' ' 

"Put  it  down!"  he  repeated  hoarsely. 

She  sighed,  gave  another  sweet,  prolonged  call. 
The  lake  of  gems — rubies  and  amethysts,  mauves 
and  scarlet-tinged  blues — wavered  and  shook  even 
as  it  had  before — and  swept  swiftly  back  to  that 
place  whence  she  had  drawn  them! 

Then,  with  Larry  and  Lakla  walking  ahead, 
white  arm  about  his  brown  neck;  the  O'Keefe 
still  expostulating,  the  handmaiden  laughing 
merrily,  we  passed  through  her  bower  to  the 
domed  castle. 

Glancing  through  a  cleft  I  caught  sight  again 
of  the  far  end  of  the  bridge;  noted  among  the 

to  the  accompaniment  of  truly  infernal  agony;  carrying  at  the 
same  time  the  illusion  that  the  torment  stretches  through  in 
finities  of  time.  Both  ether  and  nitrous  oxide  gas  produce  in  the 
majority  this  sensation  of  time  extension,  without  of  course  the 
pain  symptom.  What  Lakla  called  the  Yekta  kiss  is  I  imagine 
about  as  close  to  the  orthodox  idea  of  Hell  as  can  be  conceived. 
The  secret  of  her  control  over  them  I  had  no  opportunity  of 
learning  in  the  rush  of  events  that  followed.  Knowledge  of  the 
appalling  effects  of  their  touch  came,  she  told  me,  from  those 
few  "who  had  been  kissed  so  lightly"  that  they  recovered. 
Certainly  nothing,  not  even  the  Shining  One,  was  dreaded  by  the 
Murians  as  these  were. 

W.  T.  G. 


The  Wooing  of  Lakla 

clustered  figures  of  its  garrison  of  the  frog-men  a 
movement,  a  flashing  of  green  fire  like  marsh- 
lights  on  spear  tips;  wondered  idly  what  it  was, 
and  then,  other  thoughts  crowding  in,  followed 
along,  head  bent,  behind  the  pair  who  had  found 
in  what  was  Olaf 's  hell,  their  true  paradise. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  COMING  OF  YOLARA 

"NEVER  was  there  such  a  girl!"  Thus  Larry, 
dreamily,  leaning  head  in  hand  on  one  of  the  wide 
divans  of  the  chamber  where  Lakla  had  left  us, 
pleading  service  to  the  Silent  Ones. 

"An',  by  the  faith  and  the  honour  of  the 
O'Keefes,  an'  by  my  dead  mother's  soul  may  God 
do  with  me  as  I  do  by  her ! "  he  whispered  fervently. 

He  relapsed  into  open-eyed  dreaming. 

I  walked  about  the  room,  examining  it — the 
first  opportunity  I  had  gained  to  inspect  carefully 
any  of  the  rooms  in  the  abode  of  the  Three.  It 
was  octagonal,  carpeted  with  the  thick  rugs  that 
seemed  almost  as  though  woven  of  soft  mineral 
wool,  faintly  shimmering,  palest  blue.  I  paced 
its  diagonal;  it  was  fifty  yards;  the  ceiling  was 
arched,  and  either  of  pale  rose  metal  or  metallic 
covering;  it  collected  the  light  from  the  high, 
slitted  windows,  and  shed  it,  diffused,  through  the 
room. 

Around  the  octagon  ran  a  low  gallery  not  two 
feet  from  the  floor,  balustraded  with  slender 
pillars,  close  set;  broken  at  opposite  curtained 

330 


The  Coming  of  Yolara        33 J 

entrances  over  which  hung  thick,  dull-gold  cur- 
tainings  giving  the  same  suggestion  of  metallic 
or  mineral  substance  as  the  rugs.  Set  within  each 
of  the  eight  sides,  above  the  balcony,  were  colossal 
slabs  of  lapis  lazuli,  inset  with  graceful  but  un- 
placeable  designs  in  scarlet  and  sapphire  blue. 

There  was  the  great  divan  on  which  mused 
Larry;  two  smaller  ones;  half  a  dozen  low  seats 
and  chairs  carved  apparently  of  ivory  and  of 
dull  soft  gold. 

Most  curious  were  tripods,  strong,  pikelike  legs 
of  golden  metal  four  feet  high,  holding  small 
circles  of  the  lapis  with  intaglios  of  one  curious 
symbol  somewhat  resembling  the  ideographs  of 
the  Chinese. 

There  was  no  dust — nowhere  in  these  caverned 
spaces  had  I  found  this  constant  companion  of 
ours  in  the  world  overhead.  My  eyes  caught  a 
sparkle  from  a  corner.  Pursuing  it  I  found  upon 
one  of  the  low  seats  a  flat,  clear  crystal  oval, 
remarkably  like  a  lens.  I  took  it  and  stepped 
up  on  the  balcony.  Standing  on  tiptoe  I  found 
I  commanded  from  the  bottom  of  a  window  slit 
a  view  of  the  bridge  approach.  Scanning  it  I 
could  see  no  trace  of  the  garrison  there,  nor  of  the 
green  spear  flashes.  I  placed  the  crystal  to  my 
eyes — and  with  a  disconcerting  abruptness  the 
cavern  mouth  leaped  before  me,  apparently  not  a 
hundred  feet  away;  decidedly  the  crystal  was  a 
very  excellent  lens — but  where  were  the  guards? 

I  peered  closely.     Nothing!    But  now  against 


332  The  Moon  Pool 

the  aperture  I  saw  a  score  or  more  of  tiny,  danc 
ing  sparks.  An  optical  illusion,  I  thought,  and 
turned  the  crystal  in  another  direction.  There 
were  no  sparklings  there.  I  turned  it  back  again — 
and  there  they  were.  And  what  were  they  like? 
Realization  came  to  me — they  were  like  the  little, 
dancing,  radiant  atoms  that  had  played  for  a 
time  about  the  emptiness  where  had  stood  Sanger 
of  the  Lower  Waters  before  he  had  been  shaken 
into  the  nothingness !  And  that  green  light  I  had 
noticed — the  Keth  ! 

A  cry  on  my  lips,  I  turned  to  Larry — and  the 
cry  died  as  the  heavy  curtainings  at  the  entrance 
on  my  right  undulated,  parted  as  though  a  body 
had  slipped  through,  shook  and  parted  again  and 
again — with  the  dreadful  passing  of  unseen  things! 

"Larry!"  I  cried.     "Here!     Quick!" 

He  leaped  to  his  feet,  gazed  about  wildly — and 
disappeared!  Yes — vanished  from  my  sight  like 
the  snuffed  flame  of  a  candle  or  as  though  some 
thing  moving  with  the  speed  of  light  itself  had 
snatched  him  away ! 

Then  from  the  divan  came  the  sounds  of  struggle, 
the  hissing  of  straining  breaths,  the  noise  of  Larry 
cursing.  I  leaped  over  the  balustrade,  drawing 
my  own  pistol — was  caught  in  a  pair  of  mighty 
arms,  my  elbows  crushed  to  my  sides,  drawn 
down  until  my  face  pressed  close  to  a  broad,  hairy 
breast — and  through  that  obstacle — formless,  shad- 
owless,  transparent  as  air  itself — I  could  still  see 
the  battle  on  the  divan ! 


The  Coming  of  Yolara        333 

Now  there  were  two  sharp  reports;  the  struggle 
abruptly  ceased.  From  a  point  not  a  foot  over 
the  great  couch,  as  though  oozing  from  the  air 
itself,  blood  began  to  drop,  faster  and  ever  faster, 
pouring  out  of  nothingness. 

And  out  of  that  same  air,  now  a  dozen  feet 
away,  leaped  the  face  of  Larry — bodyless,  poised 
six  feet  above  the  floor,  blazing  with  rage — 
floating  weirdly,  uncannily  to  a  hideous  degree,  in 
vacancy. 

His  hands  flashed  out — armless;  they  wavered, 
appearing,  disappearing — swiftly  tearing  some 
thing  from  him.  Then  there,  feet  hidden,  stiff 
on  legs  that  vanished  at  the  ankles,  striking  out 
into  vision  with  all  the  dizzy  abruptness  with 
which  he  had  been  stricken  from  sight  was  the 
O'Keefe,  a  smoking  pistol  in  hand. 

And  ever  that  red  stream  trickled  out  of  vacancy 
and  spread  over  the  couch,  dripping  to  the  floor. 

I  made  a  mighty  movement  to  escape;  was  held 
more  firmly — and  then  close  to  the  face  of  Larry, 
flashing  out  with  that  terrifying  instantaneousness 
even  as  had  his,  was  the  head  of  Yolara,  as  devil 
ishly  mocking  as  I  had  ever  seen  it,  the  cruelty 
shining  through  it  like  delicate  white  flames  from 
hell — and  beautiful ! 

"Stir  not!  Strike  not — until  I  command!" 
She  flung  the  words  beyond  her,  addressed  to  the 
invisible  ones  who  had  accompanied  her;  whose 
presences  I  sensed  filling  the  chamber.  The  float 
ing,  beautiful  head,  crowned  high  with  corn-silk 


334  The  Moon  Pool 

hair,  darted  toward  the  Irishman.  He  took  a 
swift  step  backward.  The  eyes  of  the  priestess 
deepened  toward  purple;  sparkled  with  malice. 

"So,"  she  said.  "So,  Larree — you  thought 
you  could  go  from  me  so  easily!"  She  laughed 
softly.  "In  my  hidden  hand  I  hold  the  Keth 
cone,"  she  murmured.  "Before  you  can  raise 
the  death  tube  I  can  smite  you — and  will.  And 
consider,  Larree,  if  the  handmaiden,  the  choya 
conies,  I  can  vanish — so" — the  mocking  head 
disappeared,  burst  forth  again — "and  slay  her 
with  the  Keth — or  bid  my  people  seize  her  and  bear 
her  to  the  Shining  One!" 

Tiny  beads  of  sweat  stood  out  on  O'Keefe's 
forehead,  and  I  knew  he  was  thinking  not  of  him 
self,  but  of  Lakla. 

"What  do  you  want  with  me,  Yolara? "  he  asked 
hoarsely. 

"  Nay , "  came  the  mocking  voice .  ' '  Not  Yolara 
to  you,  Larree — call  me  by  those  sweet  names  you 
taught  me — Honey  of  the  Wild  Bee-e-s,  Net  of 
Hearts — "  Again  her  laughter  tinkled. 

"What  do  you  want  with  me?"  his  voice  was 
strained,  the  lips  rigid. 

"Ah,  you  are  afraid,  Larree."  There  was  dia 
bolic  jubilation  in  the  words.  "What  should  I 
want  but  that  you  return  with  me?  Why  else  did 
I  creep  through  the  lair  of  the  dragon  worm  and 
pass  the  path  of  perils  but  to  ask  you  that?  And 
the  choya  guards  you  not  well. ' '  Again  she  laughed. 
"We  came  to  the  cavern's  end  and  there  were  her 


The  Coming  of  Yolara        335 

Akka.  And  the  Akka  can  see  us — as  shadows. 
But  it  was  my  desire  to  surprise  you  with  my  com 
ing,  Larree, "  the  voice  was  silken.  "And  I  feared 
that  they  would  hasten  to  be  first  to  bring  you  that 
message  to  delight  in  your  joy.  And  so,  Larree, 
I  loosed  the  Kelh  upon  them — and  gave  them 
peace  and  rest  within  the  nothingness.  And  the 
portal  below  was  open — almost  in  welcome!" 

Once  more  the  malignant,  silver  pealing  of  her 
laughter. 

"What  do  you  want  with  me?"  There  was 
wrath  in  his  eyes,  and  plainly  he  strove  for  control. 

"Want!"  the  silver  voice  hissed,  grew  calm. 
"Do  not  Siya  and  Siyana  grieve  that  the  rite  I 
pledged  them  is  but  half  done — and  do  they  not 
desire  it  finished?  And  am  I  not  beautiful? 
More  beautiful  than  your  choya?" 

The  fiendishness  died  from  the  eyes ;  they  grew 
blue,  wondrous;  the  veil  of  invisibility  slipped 
down  from  the  neqk,  the  shoulders,  half  revealing 
the  gleaming  breasts.  And  weird,  weird  beyond 
all  telling  was  that  exquisite  head  and  bust  floating 
there  in  air — and  beautiful,  sinisterly  beautiful 
beyond  all  telling,  too.  So  even  might  Lilith,  the 
serpent  woman,  have  shown  herself  tempting 
Adam! 

' '  And  perhaps, ' '  she  said ;  ' '  perhaps  I  want  you 
because  I  hate  you ;  perhaps  because  I  love  you — 
or  perhaps  for  Lugur  or  perhaps  for  the  Shining 
One." 

"And  if  I  go  with  you?"     He  said  it  quietly. 


336  The  Moon  Pool 

"Then  shall  I  spare  the  handmaiden — and — who 
knows? — take  back  my  armies  that  even  now 
gather  at  the  portal  and  let  the  Silent  Ones  rot  in 
peace  in  their  abode — from  which  they  had  no 
power  to  keep  me, "  she  added  venomously. 

"You  will  swear  that,  Yolara;  swear  to  go  with 
out  harming  the  handmaiden?"  he  asked  eagerly. 
The  little  devils  danced  in  her  eyes.  I  wrenched 
my  face  from  the  smothering  contact. 

"Don't  trust  her,  Larry!"  I  cried — and  again 
the  grip  choked  me. 

"Is  that  devil  in  front  of  you  or  behind  you,  old 
man?"  he  asked  quietly,  eyes  never  leaving  the 
priestess.  "If  he's  in  front  I'll  take  a  chance  and 
wing  him — and  then  you  scoot  and  warn  Lakla." 

But  I  could  not  answer;  nor,  remembering 
Yolara's  threat,  would  I,  had  I  been  able. 

"Decide  quickly!"  There  was  cold  threat  in 
her  voice. 

The  curtains  toward  which  O'Keefe  had  slowly, 
step  by  step,  drawn  close,  opened.  They  framed 
the  handmaiden!  The  face  of  Yolara  changed  to 
that  gorgon  mask  that  had  transformed  it  once 
before  at  sight  of  the  Golden  Girl.  In  her  blind 
rage  she  forgot  to  cast  the  occulting  veil.  Her 
hand  darted  like  a  snake  out  of  the  folds ;  poising 
itself  with  the  little  silver  cone  aimed  at  Lakla. 

But  before  it  was  wholly  poised,  before  the 
priestess  could  loose  its  force,  the  handmaiden 
was  upon  her.  Swift  as  the  lithe  white  wolf 
hound  she  leaped,  and  one  slender  hand  gripped 


The  Coming  of  Yolara         337 

Yolara's  throat,  the  other  the  wrist  that  lifted 
the  quivering  death;  white  limbs  wrapped  about 
the  hidden  ones.  I  saw  the  golden  head  bend,  the 
hand  that  held  the  Keth  swept  up  with  a  vicious 
jerk;  saw  Lakla's  teeth  sink  into  the  wrist — the 
blood  spurt  forth  and  heard  the  priestess  shriek. 
The  cone  fell,  bounded  toward  me;  with  all  my 
strength  I  wrenched  free  the  hand  that  held  my 
pistol,  thrust  it  against  the  pressing  breast  and 
fired. 

The  clasp  upon  me  relaxed;  a  red  rain  stained 
me;  at  my  feet  a  little  pillar  of  blood  jetted;  a 
hand  thrust  itself  from  nothingness,  clawed — and 
was  still. 

Now  Yolara  was  down,  Lakla  meshed  in  her 
writhings  and  fighting  like  some  wild  mother 
whose  babes  are  serpent  menaced.  Over  the 
two  of  them,  astride,  stood  the  O'Keefe,  a  pike 
from  one  of  the  high  tripods  in  his  hand — thrust 
ing,  parrying,  beating  on  every  side  as  with  a 
broadsword  against  poniard-clutching  hands  that 
thrust  themselves  out  of  vacancy  striving  to  strike 
him;  stepping  here  and  there,  always  covering, 
protecting  Lakla  with  his  own  body  even  as  a 
cave-man  of  old  who  does  battle  with  his  mate  for 
their  lives. 

The  sword-club  struck — and  on  the  floor  lay 
the  half  body  of  a  dwarf,  writhing  with  vanish 
ments  and  reappearings  of  legs  and  arms.  Beside 
him  was  the  shattered  tripod  from  which  Larry 
had  wrenched  his  weapon.  I  flung  myself  upon 


338  The  Moon  Pool 

it,  dashed  it  down  to  break  loose  one  of  the  re 
maining  supports,  struck  in  midfall  one  of  the 
unseen  even  as  his  dagger  darted  toward  me! 
The  seat  splintered,  leaving  in  my  clutch  a  golden 
bar.  I  jumped  to  Larry's  side,  guarding  his  back, 
whirling  it  like  a  staff ;  felt  it  crunch  once — twice — 
through  unseen  bone  and  muscle. 

At  the  door  was  a  booming.  Into  the  cham 
ber  rushed  a  dozen  of  the  frog-men.  While  some 
guarded  the  entrances,  others  leaped  straight  to 
us,  and  forming  a  circle  about  us,  began  to  strike 
with  talons  and  spurs  at  unseen  things  that 
screamed  and  sought  to  escape.  Now  here  and 
there  about  the  blue  rugs  great  stains  of  blood 
appeared;  heads  of  dwarfs,  torn  arms  and  gashed 
bodies,  half  occulted,  half  revealed.  And  at  last 
the  priestess  lay  silent,  vanquished,  white  body 
gleaming  with  that  uncanny — fragmentariness — 
from  her  torn  robes.  The  O'Keefe  reached  down, 
drew  Lakla  from  her.  Shakily,  Yolara  rose  to 
her  feet.  The  handmaiden,  face  still  blazing 
with  wrath,  stepped  before  her;  with  difficulty 
she  steadied  her  voice. 

"Yolara,  "  she  said,  "you  have  defied  the  Silent 
Ones,  you  have  desecrated  their  abode,  you  came 
to  slay  these  men  who  are  the  guests  of  the  Silent 
Ones  and  me,  who  am  their  handmaiden — why  did 
you  do  these  things?" 

"I  came  for  him!"  gasped  the  priestess;  she 
pointed  to  O'Keefe. 

"Why? "asked  Lakla. 


The  Coming  of  Yolara         339 

"Because  he  is  pledged  to  me,  "  replied  Yolara, 
all  the  devils  that  were  hers  in  her  face.  ' '  Because 
he  wooed  me!  Because  he  is  mine!" 

' '  That  is  a  lie !"  The  handmaiden's  voice  shook 
with  rage.  "It  is  a  lie!  But  here  and  now  he 
shall  choose,  Yolara.  And  if  you  he  choose,  you 
and  he  shall  go  forth  from  here  unmolested — for 
Yolara,  it  is  his  happiness  that  I  most  desire,  and 
if  you  are  that  happiness — you  shall  go  together. 
And  now,  Larry,  choose!" 

Swiftly  she  stepped  beside  the  priestess ;  swiftly 
wrenched  the  last  shreds  of  the  hiding  robes  from 
her. 

There  they  stood — Yolara  with  but  the  filmiest 
net  of  gauze  about  her  wonderful  body;  gleaming 
flesh  shining  through  it;  serpent  woman — and 
wonderful,  too,  beyond  the  dreams  even  of  Phidias 
— and  hell-fire  glowing  from  the  purple  eyes. 

And  Lakla,  like  a  girl  of  the  Vikings,  like  one 
of  those  warrior  maids  who  stood  and  fought  for 
dun  and  babes  at  the  side  of  those  old  heroes  of 
Larry's  own  green  isle;  translucent  ivory  lambent 
through  the  rents  of  her  torn  draperies,  and  in  the 
wide,  golden  eyes  flaming  wrath,  indeed — not  the 
diabolic  flames  of  the  priestess  but  the  righteous 
wrath  of  some  soul  that  looking  out  of  paradise 
sees  vile  wrong  in  the  doing. 

"Lakla,"  the  O'Keefe's  voice  was  subdued, 
hurt,  "there  is  no  choice.  I  love  you  and  only 
you — and  have  from  the  moment  I  saw  you.  It's 
not  easy — this.  God,  Goodwin,  I  feel  like  an 


340  The  Moon  Pool 

utter  cad,"  he  flashed  at  me.  "There  is  no 
choice,  Lakla, "  he  ended,  eyes  steady  upon  hers. 

The  priestess's  face  grew  deadlier  still. 

"What  will  you  do  with  me?"  she  asked. 

"Keep  you,"  I  said,  "as  hostage." 

O'Keefe  was  silent;  the  Golden  Girl  shook  her 
head. 

"Well  would  I  like  to,  "  her  face  grew  dreaming; 
"but  the  Silent  Ones  say — no;  they  bid  me  let 
you  go,  Yolara ' 

"The  Silent  Ones,"  the  priestess  laughed. 
"  You,  Lakla!  You  fear,  perhaps,  to  let  me  tarry 
here  too  close!" 

Storm  gathered  again  in  the  handmaiden's 
eyes;  she  forced  it  back. 

"No,"  she  answered,  "the  Silent  Ones  so 
command — and  for  their  own  purposes.  Yet  do  I 
think,  Yolara,  that  you  will  have  little  time  to 
feed  your  wickedness — tell  that  to  Lugur — and 
to  your  Shining  One!"  she  added  slowly. 

Mockery  and  disbelief  rode  high  in  the  priestess's 
pose.  "Am  I  to  return  alone — like  this?"  she 
asked. 

"Nay,  Yolara,  nay;  you  shall  be  accompanied, " 
said  Lakla;  "and  by  those  who  will  guard — and 
watch — you  well.  They  are  here  even  now." 

The  hangings  parted,  and  into  the  chamber 
came  Olaf  and  Rador. 

The  priestess  met  the  fierce  hatred  and  con 
tempt  in  the  eyes  of  the  Norseman — and  for  the 
first  time  lost  her  bravado. 


The  Coming  of  Yolara         34* 

"Let  not  him  go  with  me,"  she  gasped — her 
eyes  searched  the  floor  frantically. 

"He  goes  with  you,"  said  Lakla,  and  threw 
about  Yolara  a  swathing  that  covered  the  exqui 
site,  alluring  body.  "And  you  shall  pass  through 
the  Portal,  not  skulk  along  the  path  of  the  worm ! " 

She  bent  to  Rador,  whispered  to  him ;  he  nodded ; 
she  had  told  him,  I  supposed,  the  secret  of  its 
opening. 

"Come,"  he  said,  and  with  the  ice-eyed  giant 
behind  her,  Yolara,  head  bent,  passed  out  of  those 
hangings  through  which,  but  a  little  before,  unseen, 
triumph  in  her  grasp,  she  had  slipped. 

Then  Lakla  came  to  the  unhappy  O'Keefe,  rested 
her  hands  on  his  shoulders,  looked  deep  into  his 
eyes. 

"Did  you  woo  her,  even  as  she  said?"  she 
asked. 

The  Irishman  flushed  miserably. 

"I  did  not,"  he  said.  "I  was  pleasant  to  her, 
of  course,  because  I  thought  it  would  bring  me 
quicker  to  you,  darlin'." 

She  looked  at  him  doubtfully;  then 

"I  think  you  must  have  been  very — pleasant!" 
was  all  she  said — and  leaning,  kissed  him  for 
givingly  straight  on  the  lips.  An  extremely  direct 
maiden  was  Lakla,  with  a  truly  sovereign  contempt 
for  anything  she  might  consider  non-essentials; 
and  at  this  moment  I  decided  she  was  wiser  even 
than  I  had  thought  her. 

He   stumbled,   feet   vanishing;    reached   down 


342  The  Moon  Pool 

and  picked  up  something  that  in  the  grasping 
turned  his  hand  to  air. 

"One  of  the  invisible  cloaks,"  he  said  to  me. 
"There  must  be  quite  a  lot  of  them  about — I 
guess  Yolara  brought  her  full  staff  of  murderers. 
They're  a  bit  shopworn,  probably — but  we're 
considerably  better  off  with  'em  in  our  hands  than 
in  hers.  And  they  may  come  in  handy — who 
knows?" 

There  was  a  choking  rattle  at  my  feet;  half  the 
head  of  a  dwarf  raised  out  of  vacancy;  beat  twice 
upon  the  floor  in  death  throes;  fell  back.  Lakla 
shivered;  gave  a  command.  The  frog-men  moved 
about;  peering  here  and  there;  lifting  unseen  folds 
revealing  in  stark  rigidity  torn  form  after  form  of 
the  priestess's  men. 

Lakla  had  been  right — her  Akka  were  thorough 
fighters ! 

She  called,  and  to  her  came  the  frog-woman 
who  was  her  attendant.  To  her  the  handmaiden 
spoke,  pointing  to  the  batrachians  who  stood,  paws 
and  forearms  melted  beneath  the  robes  they  had 
gathered.  She  took  them  and  passed  out — more 
grotesque  than  ever,  shattering  into  streaks  of 
vacancies,  reappearing  with  flickers  of  shining 
scale  and  yellow  gems  as  the  tattered  pennants 
of  invisibility  fluttered  about  her. 

The  frog-men  reached  down,  swung  each  a  dead 
dwarf  in  his  arms,  and  filed,  booming  triumphantly 
away. 

And  then  I  remembered  the  cone  of  the  Keth 


The  Coming  of  Yolara         343 

which  had  slipped  from  Yolara's  hand;  knew  it 
had  been  that  for  which  her  wild  eyes  searched. 
But  look  as  closely  as  we  might,  search  in  every 
nook  and  corner  as  we  did,  we  could  not  find  it. 
Had  the  dying  hand  of  one  of  her  men  clutched  it 
and  had  it  been  borne  away  with  them?  With 
the  thought  Larry  and  I  raced  after  the  scaled 
warriors,  searched  every  body  they  carried.  It 
was  not  there.  Perhaps  the  priestess  had  found 
it,  retrieved  it  swiftly  without  our  seeing. 

Whatever  was  true — the  cone  was  gone.  And 
what  a  weapon  that  one  little  holder  of  the  shaking 
death  would  have  been  for  us ! 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

IN   THE   LAIR  OF  THE   DWELLER 

IT  is  with  marked  hesitation  that  I  begin  this 
chapter,  because  in  it  I  must  deal  with  an  experi 
ence  so  contrary  to  every  known  law  of  physics 
as  to  seem  impossible.  Until  this  time,  barring, 
of  course,  the  mystery  of  the  Dweller,  I  had  en 
countered  nothing  that  was  not  susceptible  of 
naturalistic  explanation;  nothing,  in  a  word,  out 
side  the  domain  of  science  itself;  nothing  that  I 
would  have  felt  hesitancy  in  reciting  to  my  col 
leagues  of  the  International  Association  of  Science. 
Amazing,  unfamiliar — advanced — as  many  of  the 
phenomena  were,  still  they  lay  well  within  the 
limits  of  what  we  have  mapped  as  the  possible; 
in  regions,  it  is  true,  still  virgin  to  the  mind  of 
man,  but  toward  which  that  mind  is  steadily 
advancing. 

But  this — well,  I  confess  that  I  have  a  theory 
that  is  naturalistic;  but  so  abstruse,  so  difficult 
to  make  clear  within  the  short  confines  of  the 
space  I  have  to  give  it,  so  dependent  upon  con 
ceptions  that  even  the  highest-trained  scientific 
brains  find  difficult  to  grasp,  that  I  despair. 

344 


In  the  Lair  of  the  Dweller     345 

I  can  only  say  that  the  thing  occurred;  that  it 
took  place  in  precisely  the  manner  I  am  about  to 
narrate,  and  that  I  experienced  it. 

Yet,  in  justice  to  myself,  I  must  open  up  some 
paths  of  preliminary  approach  toward  the  heart 
of  the  perplexity.  And  the  first  path  is  the 
realization  that  our  world  whatever  it  is,  is  certainly 
not  the  world  as  we  see  it !  Regarding  this  I  shall 
refer  to  a  discourse  upon  "Gravitation  and  the 
Principle  of  Relativity,"  by  the  distinguished 
English  physicist,  Dr.  A.  S.  Eddington,  which  I 
had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  him  deliver  before  the 
Royal  Institution. T 

I  realize,  of  course,  that  it  is  not  true  logic  to 
argue — "The  world  is  not  as  we  think  it  is — 
therefore  everything  we  think  impossible  is  possible 
in  it."  Even  if  it  be  different,  it  is  governed  by 
law.  The  truly  impossible  is  that  which  is  out 
side  law,  and  as  nothing  can  be  outside  law,  the 
impossible  cannot  exist. 

The  crux  of  the  matter  then  becomes  our 
determination  whether  what  we  think  is  impossible 
may  or  may  not  be  possible  under  laws  still  beyond 
our  knowledge. 

I  hope  that  you  will  pardon  me  for  this  some 
what  academic  digression,  but  I  felt  it  was  neces 
sary,  and  it  has,  at  least,  put  me  more  at  ease. 
And  now  to  resume. 

We  had  watched,   Larry  and  I,  the  frog-men 

1  Reprinted  in  full  in  Nature,  in  which  those  sufficiently  in 
terested  may  peruse  it. — W.  T.  G. 


346  The  Moon  Pool 

throw  the  bodies  of  Yolara's  assassins  into  the 
crimson  waters.  As  vultures  swoop  down  upon 
the  dying,  there  came  sailing  swiftly  to  where  the 
dead  men  floated,  dozens  of  the  luminous  globes. 
Their  slender,  varicoloured  tentacles  whipped  out ; 
the  giant  iridescent  bubbles  climbed  over  the  ca 
davers.  And  as  they  touched  them  there  was  the 
swift  dissolution,  the  melting  away  into  putres 
cence  of  flesh  and  bone  that  I  had  witnessed  when 
the  dart  touched  fruit  that  time  I  had  saved  Rador 
• — and  upon  this  the  Medusae  gorged;  pulsing 
lambently ;  their  wondrous  colours  shifting,  chang 
ing,  glowing  stronger;  elfin  moons  now  indeed,  but 
satellites  whose  glimmering  beauty  was  fed  by 
death;  alembics  of  enchantment  whose  glorious 
hues  were  sucked  from  horror. 

Sick,  I  turned  away — O'Keefe  as  pale  as  I; 
passed  back  into  the  corridor  that  had  opened  on 
the  ledge  from  which  we  had  watched ;  met  Lakla 
hurrying  toward  us.  Before  she  could  speak 
there  throbbed  faintly  about  us  a  vast  sighing. 
It  grew  into  a  murmur,  a  whispering,  shook  us — 
then  passing  like  a  presence,  died  away  in  far 
distance. 

"The  Portal  has  opened, "  said  the  handmaiden. 
A  fainter  sighing,  like  an  echo  of  the  other,  mourned 
about  us.  "  Yolara  is  gone,  "  she  said,  "the  Portal 
is  closed.  Now  must  we  hasten — for  the  Three 
have  commanded  that  you,  Goodwin,  and  Larry 
and  I  tread  that  strange  road  of  which  I  have 
spoken,  and  which  Olaf  may  not  take  lest  his  heart 


In  the  Lair  of  the  Dweller      347 

break — and  we  must  return  ere  he  and  Rador  cross 
the  bridge." 

Her  hand  sought  Larry's. 

"Come!"  said  Lakla,  and  we  walked  on;  down 
and  down  through  hall  after  hall,  flight  upon  flight 
of  stairways.  Deep,  deep  indeed,  we  must  be 
beneath  the  domed  castle — Lakla  paused  before  a 
curved,  smooth  breast  of  the  crimson  stone  round 
ing  gently  into  the  passage.  She  pressed  its  side; 
it  revolved ;  we  entered ;  it  closed  behind  us. 

The  room,  the — hollow — in  which  we  stood  was 
faceted  like  a  diamond ;  and  like  a  cut  brilliant  its 
sides  glistened — though  dully.  Its  shape  was  a 
deep  oval,  and  our  path  dropped  down  to  a  circular, 
polished  base,  roughly  two  yards  in  diameter. 
Glancing  behind  me  I  saw  that  in  the  closing  of  the 
entrance  there  had  been  left  no  trace  of  it  save  the 
steps  that  led  from  where  that  entrance  had  been — 
and  as  I  looked  these  steps  turned,  leaving  us  iso 
lated  upon  the  circle,  only  the  faceted  walls  about 
us — and  in  each  of  the  gleaming  faces  the  three  of 
us  reflected — dimly.  It  was  as  though  we  were 
within  a  diamond  egg  whose  graven  angles  had 
been  turned  inward. 

But  the  oval  was  not  perfect;  at  my  right  a 
screen  cut  it — a  screen  that  gleamed  with  fugitive, 
fleeting  luminescences — stretching  from  the  side  of 
our  standing  place  up  to  the  tip  of  the  chamber; 
slightly  convex  and  criss-crossed  by  millions  of  fine 
lines  like  those  upon  a  spectroscopic  plate,  but  with 
this  difference — that  within  each  line  I  sensed  the 


348  The  Moon  Pool 

presence  of  multitudes  of  finer  lines,  dwindling  into 
infinitude,  ultra-microscopic,  traced  by  some  in 
strument  compared  to  whose  delicacy  our  finest 
tool  would  be  as  a  crowbar  to  the  needle  of  a 
micrometer. 

A  foot  or  two  from  it  stood  something  like  the 
standee  of  a  compass,  bearing,  like  it  a  cradled  dial 
under  whose  crystal  ran  concentric  rings  of  pris 
oned,  lambent  vapours,  faintly  blue.  From  the 
edge  of  the  dial  jutted  a  little  shelf  of  crystal,  a 
keyboard,  in  which  were  cut  eight  small  cups. 

Within  these  cups  the  handmaiden  placed  her 
tapering  fingers.  She  gazed  down  upon  the  disk; 
pressed  a  digit — and  the  screen  behind  us  slipped 
noiselessly  into  another  angle. 

"Put  your  arm  around  my  waist,  Larry,  darlin', 
and  stand  close,"  she  murmured.  "You,  Good 
win,  place  your  arm  over  my  shoulder. " 

Wondering,  I  did  as  she  bade;  she  pressed  other 
fingers  upon  the  shelf's  indentations — three  of  the 
rings  of  vapour  spun  into  intense  light ;  raced  around 
each  other;  from  the  screen  behind  us  grew  a  radi 
ance  that  held  within  itself  all  spectrums — not  only 
those  seen,  but  those  unseen  by  man's  eyes.  It 
waxed  brilliant  and  ever  more  brilliant,  all  suffus 
ing,  passing  through  me  as  day  streams  through  a 
window  pane! 

The  enclosing  facets  burst  into  a  blaze  of  corus 
cations,  and  in  each  sparkling  panel  I  saw  our 
images,  shaken  and  torn  like  pennants  in  a  whirl 
wind.  I  turned  to  look — was  stopped  by  the 


In  the  Lair  of  the  Dweller      349 

handmaiden's    swift    command:  "Turn    not — on 
your  life!" 

The  radiance  behind  me  grew;  was  a  rushing 
tempest  of  light  in  which  I  was  but  the  shadow 
of  a  shadow.  I  heard,  but  not  with  my  ears — nay 
with  mind  itself — a  vast  roaring ;  an  ordered  tumult 
of  sound  that  came  hurling  from  the  outposts  of 
space;  approaching — rushing — hurricane  out  of 
the  heart  of  the  cosmos — closer,  closer.  It 
wrapped  itself  about  us  with  unearthly  mighty 
arms. 

And  brilliant,  ever  more  brilliant,  streamed  the 
radiance  through  us. 

The  faceted  walls  dimmed ;  in  front  of  me  they 
melted,  diaphanously,  like  a  gelatinous  wall  in  a 
blast  of  flame ;  through  their  vanishing,  under  the 
torrent  of  driving  light,  the  unthinkable,  impal 
pable  tornado,  I  began  to  move,  slowly — then 
ever  more  swiftly ! 

Still  the  roaring  grew ;  the  radiance  streamed — 
ever  faster  we  went.  Cutting  down  through  the 
length,  the  extension  of  me,  dropped  a  wall  of  rock, 
foreshortened,  clenched  close;  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  elfin  gardens;  they  whirled,  contracted,  in 
to  a  thin — slice — of  colour  that  was  a  part  of  me; 
another  wall  of  rock  shrinking  into  a  thin  wedge 
through  which  I  flew,  and  that  at  once  took  its 
place  within  me  like  a  card  slipped  beside  those 
others ! 

Flashing  around  me,  and  from  Lakla  and 
O'Keef  e%  were  nimbuses  of  flickering  scarlet  flames. 


350  The  Moon  Pool 

And  always  the  steady  hurling  forward — appal 
lingly  mechanical. 

Another  barrier  of  rock — a  gleam  of  white 
waters  incorporating  themselves  into  my — draw 
ing  out — even  as  were  the  flowered  moss  lands,  the 
slicing,  rocky  walls — still  another  rampart  of  cliff, 
dwindling  instantly  into  the  vertical  plane  of  those 
others.  Our  flight  checked;  we  seemed  to  hover 
within,  then  to  sway  onward — slowly,  cautiously. 

A  mist  danced  ahead  of  me — a  mist  that  grew 
steadily  thinner.  We  stopped,  wavered — the  mist 
cleared. 

I  looked  out  into  translucent,  green  distances; 
shot  with  swift,  prismatic  gleamings;  waves  and 
pulsings  of  luminosity  like  midday  sun  glow 
through  green,  tropic  waters;  dancing,  scintillat 
ing  veils  of  sparkling  atoms  that  flew,  hither  and 
yon,  through  depths  of  nebulous  splendour! 

And  Lakla  and  Larry  and  I  were,  I  saw,  like 
shadow  shapes  upon  a  smooth  breast  of  stone 
twenty  feet  or  more  above  the  surface  of  this  place 
— a  surface  spangled  with  tiny  white  blossoms 
gleaming  wanly  through  creeping  veils  of  phos 
phorescence  like  smoke  of  moon  fire.  We  were 
shadows — and  yet  we  had  substance;  we  were  in 
corporated  with,  a  part  of,  the  rock — and  yet  we 
were  living  flesh  and  blood ;  we  stretched — nor  will 
I  qualify  this — we  stretched  through  mile  upon  mile 
of  space  that  weirdly  enough  gave  at  one  and  the 
same  time  an  absolute  certainty  of  immense  hori 
zontal  lengths  and  a  vertical  concentration  that 


In  the  Lair  of  the  Dweller      351 

contained  nothing  of  length,  nothing  of  space 
whatever;  we  stood  there  upon  the  face  of  the  stone 
— and  still  we  were  here  within  the  faceted  oval 
before  the  screen  of  radiance! 

"Steady!"  It  was  Lakla's  voice — and  not  be 
side  me  there,  but  at  my  ear  close  before  the  screen. 
"Steady,  Goodwin!  And — see!" 

The  sparkling  haze  cleared.  Enormous  reaches 
stretched  before  me.  Shimmering  up  through 
them,  and  as  though  growing  in  some  medium 
thicker  than  air,  was  mass  upon  mass  of  verdure — • 
fruiting  trees  and  trees  laden  with  pale  blossoms, 
arbours  and  bowers  of  pallid  blooms,  like  that  sea 
fruit  of  oblivion — grapes  of  Lethe — that  cling  to 
the  tide-swept  walls  of  the  caverns  of  the  Hebrides. 

Through  them,  beyond  them,  around  and  about 
them,  drifted  and  eddied  a  horde — great  as  that 
with  which  Tamerlane  swept  down  upon  Rome, 
vast  as  the  myriads  which  Genghis  Khan  rolled 
upon  the  califs — men  and  women  and  children — 
clothed  in  tatters,  half  nude  and  wholly  naked; 
slant-eyed  Chinese,  sloe-eyed  Malays,  islanders 
black  and  brown  and  yellow,  fierce-faced  warriors 
of  the  Solomons  with  grizzled  locks  fantastically 
bedizened;  Papuans,  feline  Javans,  Dyaks  of  hill 
and  shore;  hook-nosed  Phoenicians,  Romans, 
straight-browed  Greeks,  and  Vikings  centuries 
beyond  their  lives;  scores  of  the  black-haired  Mur- 
ians;  white  faces  of  our  own  Westerners — men  and 
women  and  children — drifting,  eddying — each 
stamped  with  that  mingled  horror  and  rapture,  eyes 


352  The  Moon  Pool 

filled  with  ecstasy  and  terror  entwined,  marked 
by  God  and  devil  in  embrace — the  seal  of  the 
Shining  One — the  dead-alive;  the  lost  ones! 

The  loot  of  the  Dweller! 

Soul-sick,  I  gazed.  They  lifted  to  us  visages  of 
dread ;  they  swept  down  toward  us,  glaring  upward 
— a  bank  against  which  other  and  still  other  waves 
of  faces  rolled,  were  checked,  paused;  until  as  far 
as  I  could  see,  like  billows  piled  upon  an  ever 
growing  barrier,  they  stretched  beneath  us — star 
ing — staring ! 

Now  there  was  a  movement — far,  far  away;  a 
concentrating  of  the  lambency;  the  dead-alive 
swayed,  oscillated,  separated — forming  a  long  lane 
against  whose  outskirts  they  crowded  with  avid, 
hungry  insistence. 

First  only  a  luminous  cloud,  then  a  whirling 
pillar  of  splendours  through  the  lane  came — the 
Shining  One.  As  it  passed,  the  dead-alive  swirled 
in  its  wake  like  leaves  behind  a  whirlwind,  eddy 
ing,  twisting;  and  as  the  Dweller  raced  by  them, 
brushing  them  with  its  spirallings  and  tentacles, 
they  shone  forth  with  unearthly,  awesome  gleam- 
ings — like  vessels  of  alabaster  in  which  wicks  flare 
suddenly.  And  when  it  had  passed  they  closed 
behind  it,  staring  up  at  us  once  more. 

The  Dweller  paused  beneath  us. 

Out  of  the  drifting  ruck  swam  the  body  of 
Throckmartin !  Throckmartin,  my  friend,  to  find 
whom  I  had  gone  to  the  pallid  moon  door;  my 
friend  whose  call  I  had  so  laggardly  followed.  On 


In  the  Lair  of  the  Dweller      353 

his  face  was  the  Dweller's  dreadful  stamp;  the  lips 
were  bloodless;  the  eyes  were  wide,  lucent,  some 
thing  like  pale  phosphorescence  gleaming  within 
them — and  soulless. 

He  stared  straight  up  at  me,  unwinking,  unre- 
cognizing.  Pressing  against  his  side  was  a  woman, 
young  and  gentle,  and  lovely — lovely  even  through 
the  mask  that  lay  upon  her  face.  And  her  wide 
eyes,  like  Throckmartin's,  glowed  with  the  lurk 
ing,  unholy  fires.  She  pressed  against  him  closely; 
though  the  hordes  kept  up  the  faint  churning, 
these  two  kept  ever  together,  as  though  bound  by 
unseen  fetters. 

And  I  knew  the  girl  for  Edith,  his  wife,  who  in 
vain  effort  to  save  him  had  cast  herself  into  the 
Dweller's  embrace! 

''Throckmartin!''  I  cried.  "Throckmartin! 
I'm  here!" 

Did  he  hear?  I  know  now,  of  course,  he  could 
not. 

But  then  I  waited — hope  striving  to  break 
through  the  nightmare  hands  that  gripped  my 
heart. 

Their  wide  eyes  never  left  me.  There  was  an 
other  movement  about  them,  others  pushed  past 
them;  they  drifted  back,  swaying,  eddying — and 
still  staring  were  lost  in  the  awful  throng. 

Vainly  I  strained  my  gaze  to  find  them  again, 
to  force  some  sign  of  recognition,  some  awakening 
of  the  clean  life  we  know.  But  they  were  gone. 
Try  as  I  would  I  could  not  see  them — nor  Stanton 


354  The  Moon  Pool 

and  the  northern  woman  named  Thora  who  had 
been  the  first  of  that  tragic  party  to  be  taken  by 
the  Dweller. 

"Throckmartin!"  I  cried  again,  despairingly. 
My  tears  blinded  me. 

I  felt  Lakla's  light  touch. 

"Steady,"  she  commanded,  pitifully.  "Steady 
Goodwin.  You  cannot  help  them — now !  Steady 
and — watch!" 

Below  us  the  Shining  One  had  paused — spiralling, 
swirling,  vibrant  with  all  its  transcendent,  devilish 
beauty;  had  paused  and  was  contemplating  us. 
Now  I  could  see  clearly  that  nucleus,  that  core 
shot  through  with  flashing  veins  of  radiance,  that 
ever-shifting  shape  of  glory  through  the  shroud 
ings  of  shimmering,  misty  plumes,  throbbing  lacy 
opalescences,  vaporous  spirallings  of  prismatic 
phantom  fires.  Steady  over  it  hung  the  seven  little 
moons  of  amethyst,  of  saffron,  of  emerald  and 
azure  and  silver,  of  rose  of  life  and  moon  white. 
They  poised  themselves  like  a  diadem — calm, 
serene,  immobile — and  down  from  them  into  the 
Dweller,  piercing  plumes  and  swirls  and  spirals, 
ran  countless  tiny  strands,  radiations,  finer  than 
the  finest  spun  thread  of  spider's  web,  gleaming 
filaments  through  which  seemed  to  run — power — 
from  the  seven  globes;  like — yes,  that  was  it — 
miniatures  of  the  seven  torrents  of  moon  flame 
that  poured  through  the  septichromatic,  high  crys 
tals  in  the  Moon  Pool's  chamber  roof. 

Swam  out  of  the  coruscating  haze  the — face! 


In  the  Lair  of  the  Dweller     355 

Both  of  man  and  of  woman  it  was — like  some 
ancient,  androgynous  deity  of  Etruscan  fanes  long 
dust,  and  yet  neither  woman  nor  man;  human  and 
unhuman ;  seraphic  and  sinister,  benign  and  malefic 
— and  still  no  more  of  these  four  than  is  flame, 
which  is  beautiful  whether  it  warms  or  devours, 
or  wind  whether  it  feathers  the  trees  or  shatters 
them,  or  the  wave  which  is  wondrous  whether  it 
caresses  or  kills. 

Subtly,  undefinably  it  was  of  our  world  and  of 
one  not  ours.  Its  lineaments  flowed  from  another 
sphere,  took  fleeting  familiar  form — and  as  swiftly 
withdrew  whence  they  ha,d  come;  something 
amorphous,  unearthly — as  of  unknown,  unheed 
ing,  unseen  gods  rushing  through  the  depths  of 
starhung  space;  and  still  of  our  own  earth,  with 
the  very  soul  of  earth  peering  out  from  it, 
caught  within  it — and  in  some — unholy — way 
debased. 

It  had  eyes — eyes  that  were  now  only  shadows 
darkening  within  its  luminosity  like  veils  falling, 
and  falling,  opening  windows  into  the  unknowable; 
deepening  into  softly  glowing  blue  pools,  blue  as 
the  Moon  Pool  itself;  then  flashing  out,  and  this 
only  when  the — face — bore  its  most  human  re 
semblance,  into  twin  stars  large  almost  as  the 
crown  of  little  moons;  and  with  that  same  baffling 
suggestion  of  peep-holes  into  a  world  untrodden, 
alien,  perilous  to  man! 

"Steady!"  came  Lakla's  voice,  her  body  leaned 
against  mine. 


356  The  Moon  Pool 

I  gripped  myself,  my  brain  steadied,  I  looked 
again.  And  I  saw  that  of  body,  at  least  body 
as  we  know  it,  the  Shining  One  had  none — noth 
ing  but  the  throbbing,  pulsing  core  streaked 
with  lightning  veins  of  rainbows;  and  around 
this,  never  still,  sheathing  it,  the  swirling, 
glorious  veilings  of  its  hell  and  heaven  born 
radiance. 

So  the  Dweller  stood — and  gazed. 

Then  up  toward  us  swept  a  reaching,  questing 
spiral ! 

Under  my  hand  Lakla's  shoulder  quivered; 
Dead-Alive  and  their  master  vanished — I  danced, 
flickered,  within  the  rock;  felt  a  swift  sense  of 
shrinking,  of  withdrawal;  slice  upon  slice  the  carded 
walls  of  stone,  of  silvery  waters,  of  elfin  gardens 
slipped  from  me  as  cards  are  withdrawn  from  a 
pack,  one  by  one — slipped,  wheeled,  flattened,  and 
lengthened  out  as  I  passed  through  them  and  they 
passed  from  me. 

Gasping,  shaken,  weak,  I  stood  within  the 
faceted  oval  chamber;  arm  still  about  the  hand 
maiden's  white  shoulder;  Larry's  hand  still  clutch 
ing  her  girdle. 

The  roaring,  impalpable  gale  from  the  cosmos 
was  retreating  to  the  outposts  of  space — was 
still;  the  intense,  streaming,  flooding  radiance 
lessened — died. 

"Now  have  you  beheld,"  said  Lakla,  "and 
well  you  trod  the  road.  And  now  shall  you 
hear,  even  as  the  Silent  Ones  have  commanded, 


In  the  Lair  of  the  Dweller      357 

what  the  Shining  One  is — and  how  it  came  to 
be." 

The  steps  flashed  back;  the  doorway  into  the 
chamber  opened. 

Larry  as  silent  as  I — we  followed  her  through  it. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE   SHAPING   OF  THE   SHINING  ONE 

WE  reached  what  I  knew  to  be  Lakla's  own 
boudoir,  if  I  may  so  call  it.  Smaller  than  any  of 
the  other  chambers  of  the  domed  castle  in  which  we 
had  been,  its  intimacy  was  revealed  not  only  by  its 
faint  fragrance  but  by  its  high  mirrors  of  polished 
silver  and  various  oddly  wrought  articles  of  the 
feminine  toilet  that  lay  here  and  there;  things  I 
afterward  knew  to  be  the  work  of  the  artizans  of 
the  Akka — and  no  mean  metal  workers  were  they. 
One  of  the  window  slits  dropped  almost  to  the  floor, 
and  at  its  base  was  a  wide,  comfortably  cushioned 
seat  commanding  a  view  of  the  bridge  and  of  the 
cavern  ledge.  To  this  the  handmaiden  beckoned 
us;  sank  upon  it,  drew  Larry  down  beside  her  and 
motioned  me  to  sit  close  to  him. 

"Now  this,"  she  said,  "is  what  the  Silent  Ones 
have  commanded  me  to  tell  you  two:  To  you, 
Larry,  that  knowing  you  may  weigh  all  things  in 
your  mind  and  answer  as  your  spirit  bids  you  a 
question  that  the  Three  will  ask — and  what  that 
is  I  know  not, "  she  murmured,  "and  I,  they  say, 
must  answer,  too — and  it — frightens  me!" 

358 


The  Shaping  of  the  Shining  One  359 

The  great  golden  eyes  widened;  darkened  with 
dread;  she  sighed,  shook  her  head  impatiently. 

"Not  like  us,  and  never  like  us, "  she  spoke  low, 
wonderingly,  "the  Silent  Ones  say  were  they. 
Nor  were  those  from  which  they  sprang  like  those 
from  which  we  have  come.  Ancient,  ancient  be 
yond  thought  are  the  Taithu,  the  race  of  the  Silent 
Ones.  Far,  far  below  this  place  where  now  we  sit, 
close  to  earth  heart  itself  were  they  born ;  and  there 
they  dwelt  for  time  upon  time,  laya  upon  laya 
upon  laya — with  others,  not  like  them,  some  of 
which  have  vanished  time  upon  time  agone,  others 
that  still  dwell — below — in  their — cradle. 

"It  is  hard" — she  hesitated — "hard  to  tell  this 
— that  slips  through  my  mind — because  I  know 
so  little  that  even  as  the  Three  told  it  to  me  it 
passed  from  me  for  lack  of  place  to  stand  upon, " 
she  went  on,  quaintly.  "Something  there  was  of 
time  when  earth  and  sun  were  but  cold  mists  in 
the — the  heavens — something  of  these  mists  draw 
ing  together,  whirling,  whirling,  faster  and  faster — 
drawing  as  they  whirled  more  and  more  of  the 
mists — growing  larger,  growing  warm — forming 
at  last  into  the  globes  they  are,  with  others  spin 
ning  around  the  sun — something  of  regions  within 
this  globe  where  vast  fire  was  prisoned  and  burst 
ing  forth  tore  and  rent  the  young  orb — of  one  such 
bursting  forth  that  sent  what  you  call  moon  flying 
out  to  company  us  and  left  behind  those  spaces 
whence  we  now  dwell — and  of — of  life  particles 
that  here  and  there  below  grew  into  the  race  of  the 


360  The  Moon  Pool 

Silent  Ones,  and  those  others — but  not  the  Akka 
which,  like  you,  they  say  came  from  above — and 
all  this  I  do  not  understand—  do  you,  Goodwin?" 
she  appealed  to  me. 

I  nodded — for  what  she  had  related  so  frag- 
mentarily  was  in  reality  an  excellent  approach  to 
the  Chamberlain-Moulton  theory  of  a  coalescing 
nebula  contracting  into  the  sun  and  its  planets. 

Astonishing  was  the  recognition  of  this  theory. 
Even  more  so  was  the  reference  to  the  life  particles, 
the  idea  of  Arrhenius,  the  great  Swede,  of  life  start 
ing  on  earth  through  the  dropping  of  minute,  life 
spores,  propelled  through  space  by  the  driving 
power  of  light  and,  encountering  favourable  en 
vironment  here,  developing  through  the  vast  ages 
into  man  and  every  other  living  thing  we  know. x 

Nor  was  it  incredible  that  in  the  ancient  nebula 
that  was  the  matrix  of  our  solar  system  similar,  or 
rather  dissimilar  particles  in  all  but  the  subtle 
essence  we  call  life,  might  have  become  entangled 
and,  resisting  every  cataclysm  as  they  had  resisted 
the  absolute  zero  of  outer  space,  found  in  these 
caverned  spaces  their  proper  environment  to  de 
velop  into  the  race  of  the  Silent  Ones  and — only 
they  could  tell  what  else ! 

*  Professor  Svante  August  Arrhenius,  in  his  Worlds  in  the  Mak 
ing — the  conception  that  life  is  universally  diffused,  constantly 
emitted  from  all  habitable  worlds  in  the  form  of  spores  which 
traverse  space  for  years  and  ages,  the  majority  being  ultimately 
destroyed  by  the  heat  of  some  blazing  'tar,  but  some  few  finding  a 
resting-place  on  globes  which  have  reached  the  habitable  stage. — 
W.  T.  G. 


The  Shaping  of  the  Shining  One  361 

"They  say,"  the  handmaiden's  voice  was: 
surer,  ' '  they  say  that  in  their — cradle — near  earth 
heart  they  grew;  grew  untroubled  by  the  turmoil 
and  disorder  which  flayed  the  surface  of  this  globe. 
And  they  say  it  was  a  place  of  light  and  that 
strength  came  to  them  from  earth  heart — strength 
greater  than  you  and  those  from  which  you  sprang 
ever  derived  from  sun. 

"At  last,  ancient,  ancient  beyond  all  thought, 
they  say  again,  was  this  time — they  began  to  know, 
to — to — realize — themselves.  And  wisdom  came 
ever  more  swiftly.  Up  from  their  cradle,  because 
they  did  not  wish  to  dwell  longer  with  those — 
others — they  came  and  found  this  place. 

"When  all  the  face  of  earth  was  covered  with 
waters  in  which  lived  only  tiny,  hungry  things 
that  knew  naught  save  hunger  and  its  satisfaction, 
they  had  attained  the  wisdom  that  enabled  them  to 
make  paths  such  as  we  have  just  travelled  and  to 
look  out  upon  those  waters !  And  laya  upon  laya 
thereafter,  time  upon  time,  they  went  upon  the 
paths  and  watched  the  flood  recede;  saw  great 
bare  flats  of  steaming  ooze  appear  on  which  crawled 
and  splashed  larger  things  which  had  grown  from 
the  tiny  hungry  ones ;  watched  the  flats  rise  higher 
and  higher  and  green  life  begin  to  clothe  them ;  saw 
mountains  uplift  and  vanish. 

"Ever  the  green  life  waxed  and  the  things  which 
crept  and  crawled  grew  greater  and  took  ever 
different  forms ;  until  at  last  came  a  time  when  the 
steaming  mists  lightened  and  the  things  which  had 


362  The  Moon  Pool 

begun  as  little  more  than  tiny  hungry  mouths  were 
huge  and  monstrous,  so  huge  that  the  tallest  of  my 
Akka  would  not  have  reached  the  knee  of  the 
smallest  of  them. 

"But  in  none  of  these,  in  none,  was  there — real 
ization — of  themselves,  say  the  Three;  naught  but 
hunger  driving,  always  driving  them  to  still  its 
crying. 

"So  for  time  upon  time  the  race  of  the  Silent 
Ones  took  the  paths  no  more,  placing  aside  the 
half-thought  that  they  had  of  making  their  way 
to  earth  face  even  as  they  had  made  their  way 
from  beside  earth  heart.  They  turned  wholly  to 
the  seeking  of  wisdom — and  after  other  time  on 
time  they  attained  that  which  killed  even  the 
faintest  shadow  of  the  half-thought.  For  they 
crept  far  within  the  mysteries  of  life  and  death, 
they  mastered  the  illusion  of  space,  they  lifted  the 
veils  of  creation  and  of  its  twin  destruction,  and 
they  stripped  the  covering  from  the  flaming  jewel 
of  truth — but  when  they  had  crept  within  those 
mysteries  they  bid  me  tell  you,  Goodwin,  they 
found  ever  other  mysteries  veiling  the  way;  and 
after  they  had  uncovered  the  jewel  of  truth  they 
found  it  to  be  a  gem  of  infinite  facets  and  therefore 
not  wholly  to  be  read  before  eternity's  unthinkable 
end! 

"And  for  this  they  were  glad — because  now 
throughout  eternity  might  they  and  theirs  pursue 
knowledge  over  ways  illimitable. 

"They  conquered  light — light  that  sprang  at 


The  Shaping  of  the  Shining  One  363 

their  bidding  from  the  nothingness  that  gives  birth 
to  all  things  and  in  which  lie  all  things  that  are, 
have  been  and  shall  be;  light  that  streamed  through 
their  bodies  cleansing  them  of  all  dross ;  light  that 
was  food  and  drink ;  light  that  carried  their  vision 
afar  or  bore  to  them  images  out  of  space  opening 
many  windows  through  which  they  gazed  down 
upon  life  on  thousands  upon  thousands  of  the 
rushing  worlds;  light  that  was  the  flame  of  life 
itself  and  in  which  they  bathed,  ever  renewing  their 
own.  They  set  radiant  lamps  within  the  stones, 
and  of  black  light  they  wove  the  sheltering  shad 
ows  and  the  shadows  that  slay. 

"Arose  from  this  people  those  Three — the 
Silent  Ones.  They  led  them  all  in  wisdom  so  that 
in  the  Three  grew — pride.  And  the  Three  built 
them  this  place  in  which  we  sit  and  set  the  Portal 
in  its  place  and  withdrew  from  their  kind  to  go 
alone  into  the  mysteries  and  to  map  alone  the 
facets  of  Truth  Jewel. 

"Then  there  came  the  ancestors  of  the — Akka; 
not  as  they  are  now,  and  glowing  but  faintly  with 
in  them  the  spark  of — self-realization.  And  the 
Taithu  seeing  this  spark  did  not  slay  them. 
But  they  took  the  ancient,  long  untrodden  paths 
and  looked  forth  once  more  upon  earth  face. 
Now  on  the  land  were  vast  forests  and  a  chaos  of 
green  life.  On  the  shores  things  scaled  and  fanged, 
fought  and  devoured  each  other,  and  in  the  green 
life  moved  bodies  great  and  small  that  slew  and 
ran  from  those  that  would  slay. 


364  The  Moon  Pool 

"They  searched  for  the  passage  through  which 
the  Akka  had  come  and  closed  it.  Then  the  Three 
took  them  and  brought  them  here;  and  taught 
them  and  blew  upon  the  spark  until  it  burned  ever 
stronger  and  in  time  they  became  much  as  they 
are  now — my  Akka. 

"The  Three  took  counsel  after  this  and  said — 
'We  have  strengthened  life  in  these  until  it  has 
become  articulate ;  shall  we  not  create  life  ? ' "  Again 
she  hesitated,  her  eyes  rapt,  dreaming.  "The 
Three  are  speaking, ' '  she  murmured.  ' '  They  have 
my  tongue " 

And  certainly,  with  an  ease  and  rapidity  as 
though  she  were  but  a  voice  through  which  minds 
far  more  facile,  more  powerful  poured  their 
thoughts,  she  spoke. 

"Yea,"  the  golden  voice  was  vibrant.  "We 
said  that  what  we  would  create  should  be  of 
the  spirit  of  life  itself,  speaking  to  us  with  the 
tongues  of  the  far-flung  stars,  of  the  winds,  of  the 
waters,  and  of  all  upon  and  within  these.  Upon 
that  universal  matrix  of  matter,  that  mother  of  all 
things  that  you  name  the  ether,  we  laboured.  Think 
not  that  her  wondrous  fertility  is  limited  by  what 
ye  see  on  earth  or  what  has  been  on  earth  from  its 
beginning.  Infinite,  infinite  are  the  forms  the 
mother  bears  and  countless  are  the  energies  that 
are  part  of  her. 

"By  our  wisdom  we  had  fashioned  many  win 
dows  out  of  our  abode  and  through  them  we  stared 
into  the  faces  of  myriads  of  worlds,  and  upon  them 


The  Shaping  of  the  Shining  One  365 

all  were  the  children  of  ether  even  as  the  worlds 
themselves  were  her  children. 

"Watching  we  learned,  and  learning  we  formed 
that  ye  term  the  Dweller,  which  those  without  name 
— the  Shining  One.  Within  the  Universal  Mother 
we  shaped  it,  to  be  a  voice  to  tell  us  her  secrets, 
a  lamp  to  go  before  us  lighting  the  mysteries. 
Out  of  the  ether  we  fashioned  it,  giving  it  the  soul 
of  light  that  still  ye  know  not  nor  perhaps  ever 
may  know,  and  with  the  essence  of  life  that  ye  saw 
blossoming  deep  in  the  abyss  and  that  is  the  pulse 
of  earth  heart  we  filled  it.  And  we  wrought  with 
pain  and  with  love,  with  yearning  and  with  scorch 
ing  pride  and  from  our  travail  came  the  Shining 
One — our  child! 

"There  is  an  energy  beyond  and  above  ether, 
a  purposeful,  sentient  force  that  laps  like  an  ocean 
the  furthest-flung  star,  that  transfuses  all  that 
ether  bears,  that  sees  and  speaks  and  feels  in  us 
and  in  you,  that  is  incorporate  in  beast  and  bird 
and  reptile,  in  tree  and  grass  and  all  living  things, 
that  sleeps  in  rock  and  stone,  that  finds  sparkling 
tongue  in  jewel  and  star  and  in  all  dwellers  within 
the  firmament.  And  this  ye  call  consciousness ! 

"We  crowned  the  Shining  One  with  the  seven 
orbs  of  light  which  are  the  channels  between  it  and 
the  sentience  we  sought  to  make  articulate,  the 
portals  through  which  flow  its  currents  and  so 
flowing,  become  choate,  vocal,  self-realizant  within 
our  child. 

"But  as  we  shaped,  there  passed  some  of  the 


366  The  Moon  Pool 

essence  of  our  pride;  in  giving  will  we  had  given 
power,  perforce,  to  exercise  that  will  for  good  or  for 
evil,  to  speak  or  to  be  silent,  to  tell  us  what  we 
wished  of  that  which  poured  into  it  through  the 
seven  orbs  or  to  withhold  that  knowledge  itself; 
and  in  forging  it  from  the  immortal  energies  we 
had  endowed  it  with  their  indifference ;  open  to  all 
consciousness  it  held  within  it  the  pole  of  utter 
joy  and  the  pole  of  utter  woe  with  all  the  arc  that 
lies  between;  all  the  ecstasies  of  the  countless 
worlds  and  suns  and  all  their  sorrows;  all  that  ye 
symbolize  as  gods  and  all  ye  symbolize  as  devils — 
not  negativing  each  other,  for  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  negation,  but  holding  them  together, 
balancing  them,  encompassing  them,  pole  upon 
pole!" 

So  this  was  the  explanation  of  the  entwined  emo 
tions  of  joy  and  terror  that  had  changed  so  appall 
ingly  Throckmartin's  face  and  the  faces  of  all  the 
Dweller's  slaves! 

The  handmaiden's  eyes  grew  bright,  alert,  again; 
the  brooding  passed  from  her  face;  the  golden  voice 
that  had  been  so  deep  found  its  own  familiar  pitch. 

"I  listened  while  the  Three  spoke  to  you,"  she 
said.  "Now  the  shaping  of  the  Shining  One  had 
been  a  long,  long  travail  and  time  had  flown  over 
the  outer  world  lay  a  upon  lay  a.  For  a  space 
the  Shining  One  was  content  to  dwell  here;  to  be 
fed  with  the  foods  of  light:  to  open  the  eyes  of 
the  Three  to  mystery  upon  mystery  and  to  read 
for  them  facet  after  facet  of  the  gem  of  truth.  Yet 


The  Shaping  of  the  Shining  One  367 

as  the  tides  of  consciousness  flowed  through  it  they 
left  behind  shadowings  and  echoes  of  their  burdens ; 
and  the  Shining  One  grew  stronger,  always  stronger 
of  itself  within  itself.  Its  will  strengthened  and 
now  not  always  was  it  the  will  of  the  Three;  and 
the  pride  that  was  woven  in  the  making  of  it 
waxed,  while  the  love  for  them  that  its  creators 
had  set  within  it  waned. 

"Not  ignorant  were  the  Taithu  of  the  work  of 
the  Three.  First  there  were  a  few,  then  more  and 
more  who  coveted  the  Shining  One  and  who  would 
have  had  the  Three  share  with  them  the  knowledge 
it  drew  in  for  them.  But  the  Silent  Ones  in  their 
pride,  would  not. 

"There  came  a  time  when  its  will  was  now  all  its 
own,  and  it  rebelled,  turning  its  gaze  to  the  wider 
spaces  beyond  the  Portal,  offering  itself  to  the 
many  there  who  would  serve  it ;  tiring  of  the  Three, 
their  control  and  their  abode. 

"Now  the  Shining  One  has  its  limitations,  even 
as  we.  Over  water  it  can  pass,  through  air  and 
through  fire;  but  pass  it  cannot,  through  rock  or 
metal.  So  it  sent  a  message — how  I  know  not — 
to  the  Taithu  who  desired  it,  whispering  to  them 
the  secret  of  the  Portal.  And  when  the  time  was 
ripe  they  opened  the  Portal  and  the  Shining  One 
passed  through  it  to  them ;  nor  would  it  return  to 
the  Three  though  they  commanded,  and  when  they 
would  have  forced  it  they  found  that  it  had  hived 
and  hidden  a  knowledge  that  they  could  not  over 
come. 


368  The  Moon  Pool 

"Yet  by  their  arts  the  Three  could  have  shat 
tered  the  seven  shining  orbs;  but  they  would  not 
because — they  loved  it ! 

"Those  to  whom  it  had  gone  built  for  it  that 
place  I  have  shown  you,  and  they  bowed  to  it  and 
drew  wisdom  from  it.  And  ever  they  turned  more 
and  more  from  the  ways  in  which  the  Taithu  had 
walked — for  it  seemed  that  which  came  to  the 
Shining  One  through  the  seven  orbs  had  less  and 
less  of  good  and  more  and  more  of  the  power  you 
call  evil.  Knowledge  it  gave  and  understanding, 
yes;  but  not  that  which,  clear  and  serene,  lights 
the  paths  of  right  wisdom ;  rather  were  they  flares 
pointing  the  dark  roads  that  lead  to — to  the  ulti 
mate  evil! 

"Not  all  of  the  race  of  the  Three  followed  the 
counsel  of  the  Shining  One.  There  were  many, 
many,  who  would  have  none  of  it  nor  of  its  power. 
So  were  the  Taithu  split;  and  to  this  place  where 
there  had  been  none,  came  hatred,  fear  and  sus 
picion.  Those  who  pursued  the  ancient  ways  went 
to  the  Three  and  pleaded  with  them  to  destroy 
their  work — and  they  would  not,  for  still  they 
loved  it. 

"Stronger  grew  the  Dweller  and  less  and  less 
did  it  lay  before  its  worshippers — for  now  so  they 
had  become — the  fruits  of  its  knowledge;  and  it 
grew — restless — turning  its  gaze  upon  earth  face 
even  as  it  had  turned  it  from  the  Three.  It 
whispered  to  the  Taithu  to  take  again  the  paths 
and  look  out  upon  the  world.  Lo !  above  them  was 


The  Shaping  of  the  Shining  One  369 

a  great  fertile  land  on  which  dwelt  an  unfamiliar 
race,  skilled  in  arts,  seeking  and  finding  wisdom — 
mankind!  Mighty  builders  were  they;  vast  were 
their  cities  and  huge  their  temples  of  stone. 

"They  called  their  lands  Muria  and  they  wor 
shipped  a  god  Thanaroa  whom  they  imagined  to  be 
the  maker  of  all  things,  dwelling  far  away.  They 
worshipped  as  closer  gods,  not  indifferent  but  to 
be  prayed  to  and  to  be  propitiated,  the  moon  and 
the  sun.  Two  kings  they  had,  each  with  his  coun 
cil  and  his  court.  One  was  high  priest  to  the  moon 
and  the  other  high  priest  to  the  sun. 

"The  mass  of  this  people  were  black-haired, 
but  the  sun  king  and  his  nobles  were  ruddy  with 
hair  like  mine;  and  the  moon  king  and  his  followers 
were  like  Yolara — or  Lugur.  And  this,  the  Three 
say,  Goodwin,  came  about  because  for  time  upon 
time  the  law  had  been  that  whenever  a  ruddy- 
haired  or  ashen-tressed  child  was  born  of  the  black- 
haired  it  became  dedicated  at  once  to  either  sun 
god  or  moon  god,  later  wedding  and  bearing  chil 
dren  only  to  their  own  kind.  Until  at  last  from 
the  black-haired  came  no  more  of  the  light-locked 
ones,  but  the  ruddy  ones,  being  stronger,  still  arose 
from  them." 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE   BUILDING  OF  THE  MOON   POOL 

SHE  paused,  running  her  long  fingers  through  her 
own  bronze-flecked  ringlets.  Selective  breeding 
this,  with  a  vengeance,  I  thought ;  an  ancient  ex 
periment  in  heredity  which  of  course  would  in  time 
result  in  the  stamping  out  of  the  tendency  to  de 
part  from  type  that  lies  in  all  organisms ;  resulting, 
obviously,  at  last,  in  three  fixed  forms  of  black- 
haired,  ruddy-haired,  and  silver-haired — but  this, 
with  a  shock  of  realization  it  came  to  me,  was  also 
an  accurate  description  of  the  dark-polled  ladala, 
their  fair-haired  rulers  and  of  the  golden-brown 
tressed  Lakla! 

How — questions  began  to  stream  through  my 
mind;  silenced  by  the  handmaiden's  voice. 

"Above,  far,  far  above  the  abode  of  the  Shining 
One, "  she  said,  "was  their  greatest  temple,  holding 
the  shrines  both  of  sun  and  moon.  All  about  it 
were  other  temples  hidden  behind  mighty  walls, 
each  enclosing  its  own  space  and  squared  and  ruled 
and  standing  within  a  shallow  lake;  the  sacred  city, 
the  city  of  the  gods  of  this  land " 

"It  is  the  Nan-Matal  that  she  is  describing, "  I 
thought. 


The  Building  of  the  Moon  Pool  37* 

"Out  upon  all  this  looked  the  Taithu  who  were 
now  but  the  servants  of  the  Shining  One  as  it  had 
been  the  messenger  of  the  Three,"  she  went  on.. 
"When  they  returned  the  Shining  One  spoke  to 
them,  promising  them  dominion  over  all  that  they 
had  seen,  yea,  under  It  dominion  of  all  earth  itself 
and  later  perhaps  of  other  earths ! 

"In  the  Shining  One  had  grown  craft,  cunning; 
knowledge  to  gain  that  which  it  desired.  There 
fore  it  told  its  Taithu — and  mayhap  told  them  truth 
— that  not  yet  was  it  time  for  them  to  go  forth ;  that 
slowly  must  they  pass  into  that  outer  world,  for 
they  had  sprung  from  heart  of  earth  and  even  it 
lacked  power  to  swirl  unaided  into  and  through 
the  above.  Then  it  counselled  them,  instructing 
them  what  to  do.  They  hollowed  the  chamber 
wherein  first  I  saw  you,  cutting  their  way  to  it 
that  path  down  which  from  it  you  sped. 

' '  It  revealed  to  them  that  the  force  that  is  within 
moon  flame  is  kin  to  the  force  that  is  within  it,  for 
the  chamber  of  its  birth  was  the  chamber  too  of 
moon  birth  and  into  it  went  the  subtle  essences 
and  powers  that  flow  in  that  earth  child;  and  it 
taught  them  how  to  make  that  which  fills  what 
you  call  the  Moon  Pool  whose  opening  is  close  be 
hind  its  Veil  hanging  upon  the  gleaming  cliffs. 

"When  this  was  done  it  taught  them  how  to 
make  and  how  to  place  the  seven  lights  through 
which  moon  flame  streams  into  Moon  Pool — the 
seven  lights  that  are  kin  to  its  own  seven  orbs  even- 
as  its  fires  are  kin  to  moon  fires — and  which  would 


372  The  Moon  Pool 

open  for  it  a  path  that  it  could  tread.  And  all 
this  the  Taithu  did,  working  so  secretly  that  neither 
those  of  their  race  whose  faces  were  set  against  the 
Shining  One  nor  the  busy  men  above  knew  aught 
of  it. 

"When  it  was  done  they  moved  up  the  path, 
clustering  within  the  Moon  Pool  Chamber.  Moon 
flame  streamed  through  the  seven  globes,  poured 
down  upon  the  pool ;  they  saw  mists  arise,  embrace, 
and  become  one  with  the  moon  flame — and  then 
up  through  Moon  Pool,  shaping  itself  within  the 
mists  of  light,  whirling,  radiant — the  Shining  One! 

"Almost  free,  almost  loosed  upon  the  world  it 
coveted ! 

"Again  it  counselled  them,  and  they  pierced  the 
passage  whose  portal  you  found  first ;  set  the  fires 
within  its  stones,  and  revealing  themselves  to  the 
moon  king  and  his  priests  spake  to  them  even  as 
the  Shining  One  had  instructed. 

"Now  was  the  moon  king  filled  with  fear  when 
he  looked  upon  the  Taithu,  shrouded  with  protect 
ing  mists  of  light  in  Moon  Pool  Chamber,  and 
heard  their  words.  Yet,  being  crafty,  he  thought 
of  the  power  that  would  be  his  if  he  heeded  and 
how  quickly  the  strength  of  the  sun  king  would 
dwindle.  So  he  and  his  made  a  pact  with  the 
Shining  One's  messengers. 

"When  next  the  moon  was  round  and  poured  its 
flames  down  upon  Moon  Pool,  the  Taithu  gathered 
there  again,  watched  the  child  of  the  Three  take 
shape  within  the  pillars,  speed  away — and  out? 


The  Building  of  the  Moon  Pool  373 

They  heard  a  mighty  shouting,  a  tumult  of  terror, 
of  awe  and  of  worship;  a  silence;  a  vast  sighing — 
and  they  waited,  wrapped  in  their  mists  of  light,  for 
they  feared  to  follow  nor  were  they  near  the  paths 
that  would  have  enabled  them  to  look  without. 

"Another  tumult — and  back  came  the  Shining 
One,  murmuring  with  joy,  pulsing,  triumphant,  and 
clasped  within  its  vapours  a  man  and  woman, 
ruddy-haired,  golden-eyed,  in  whose  faces  rapture 
and  horror  lay  side  by  side — gloriously,  hideously. 
And  still  holding  them  it  danced  above  the  Moon 
Pool  and — sank ! 

' '  Now  must  I  be  brief.  Lat  after  lat  the  Shining 
One  went  forth,  returning  with  its  sacrifices.  And 
stronger  after  each  it  grew — and  gayer  and  more 
cruel.  Ever  when  it  passed  with  its  prey  toward 
the  pool,  the  Taiihu  who  watched  felt  a  swift, 
strong  intoxication,  a  drunkenness  of  spirit, 
streaming  from  it  to  them.  And  the  Shining  One 
forgot  what  it  had  promised  them  of  dominion — 
and  in  this  new  evil  delight  they  too  forgot. 

1 '  The  outer  land  was  torn  with  hatred  and  open 
strife.  The  moon  king  and  his  kind,  through  the 
guidance  of  the  evil  Taiihu  and  the  favour  of  the 
Shining  One,  had  become  powerful  and  the  sun 
king  and  his  were  darkened.  And  the  moon  priests 
preached  that  the  child  of  the  Three  was  the  moon 
god  itself  come  to  dwell  with  them. 

' '  Now  vast  tides  arose  and  when  they  withdrew 
they  took  with  them  great  portions  of  this  country. 
And  the  land  itself  began  to  sink.  Then  said  the 


374  The  Moon  Pool 

moon  king  that  the  moon  had  called  to  ocean  to 
destroy  because  wroth  that  another  than  he  was 
worshipped.  The  people  believed  and  there  was 
slaughter.  When  it  was  over  there  was  no  more  a 
sun  king  nor  any  of  the  ruddy-haired  folk;  slain 
were  they,  slain  down  to  the  babe  at  breast. 

"But  still  the  tides  swept  higher;  still  dwindled 
the  land ! 

"As  it  shrank  multitudes  of  the  fleeing  people 
were  led  through  Moon  Pool  Chamber  and  carried 
here.  They  were  what  now  are  called  the  ladala, 
and  they  were  given  place  and  set  to  work;  and 
they  thrived.  Came  many  of  the  fair-haired ;  and 
they  were  given  dwellings.  They  sat  beside  the 
evil  Taiihu;  they  became  drunk  even  as  they 
with  the  dancing  of  the  Shining  One ;  they  learned 
— not  all,  only  a  little  part  but  that  little  enough — 
of  their  arts.  And  ever  the  Shining  One  danced 
more  gaily  out  there  within  the  black  amphitheatre; 
grew  ever  stronger — and  ever  the  hordes  of  its 
slaves  behind  the  Veil  increased. 

' '  Nor  did  the  Taiihu  who  clung  to  the  old  ways 
check  this — they  could  not.  By  the  sinking  of 
the  land  above  their  own  spaces  were  imperilled. 
All  of  their  strength  and  all  of  their  wisdom  it  took 
to  keep  this  land  from  perishing ;  nor  had  they  help 
from  those  others  mad  for  the  poison  of  the  Shining 
One ;  and  they  had  no  time  to  deal  with  them  nor 
the  earth  race  with  whom  they  had  foregathered. 

"At  last  came  a  slow,  vast  flood.  It  rolled  even 
to  the  bases  of  the  walled  islets  of  the  city  of  the 


The  Building  of  the  Moon  Pool  375 

gods — and  within  these  now  were  all  that  were  left 
of  my  people  on  earth  face. 

"I  am  of  those  people,"  she  paused,  looking  at 
me  proudly,  "one  of  the  daughters  of  the  sun  king 
whose  seed  is  still  alive  in  the  ladala!" 

As  Larry  opened  his  mouth  to  speak  she  waved 
a  silencing  hand. 

' '  This  tide  did  not  recede, ' '  she  went  on.  "  And 
after  a  time  the  remnant,  the  moon  king  leading 
them,  joined  those  who  had  already  fled  below. 
The  rocks  became  still,  the  quakings  ceased,  and 
now  those  Ancient  Ones  who  had  been  labouring 
could  take  breath.  And  anger  grew  within  them 
as  they  looked  upon  the  work  of  their  evil  kin. 
Again  they  sought  the  Three — and  the  Three  now 
knew  what  they  had  done  and  their  pride  was 
humbled.  They  would  not  slay  the  Shining  One 
themselves,  for  still  they  loved  it;  but  they  in 
structed  these  others  how  to  undo  their  work;  how 
also  they  might  destroy  the  evil  Taiihu  were  it 
necessary. 

"Armed  with  the  wisdom  of  the  Three  they  went 
forth — but  now  the  Shining  One  was  strong  indeed. 
They  could  not  slay  it ! 

"Nay,  it  knew  and  was  prepared;  they  could  not 
even  pass  beyond  its  Veil  nor  seal  its  abode.  Ah,, 
strong,  strong,  mighty  of  will,  full  of  craft  and 
cunning  had  the  Shining  One  become.  So  they 
turned  upon  their  kind  who  had  gone  astray  and 
made  them  perish,  to  the  last.  The  Shining  One 
came  not  to  the  aid  of  its  servants — though  they 


376  The  Moon  Pool 

called;  for  within  its  will  was  the  thought  that  they 
were  of  no  further  use  to  it;  that  it  would  rest 
awhile  and  dance  with  them — who  had  so  little  of 
the  power  and  wisdom  of  its  Taithu  and  therefore 
no  reins  upon  it.  And  while  this  was  happening 
black-haired  and  fair-haired  ran  and  hid  and  were 
but  shaking  vessels  of  terror. 

"The  Ancient  Ones  took  counsel.  This  was 
their  decision ;  that  they  would  go  from  the  gardens 
before  the  Silver  Waters — leaving,  since  they  could 
not  kill  it,  the  Shining  One  with  its  worshippers. 
They  sealed  the  mouth  of  the  passage  that  leads 
to  the  Moon  Pool  Chamber  and  they  changed  the 
face  of  the  cliff  so  that  none  might  tell  where  it 
had  been.  But  the  passage  itself  they  left  open — 
having  foreknowledge  I  think,  of  a  thing  that  was 
to  come  to  pass  in  the  far  future — perhaps  it  was 
your  journey  here,  my  Larry  and  Goodwin — verily 
I  think  so.  And  they  destroyed  all  the  ways  save 
that  which  we  three  trod  to  the  Dweller's  abode. 

"For  the  last  time  they  went  to  the  Three — to 
pass  sentence  upon  them.  This  was  the  doom — 
that  here  they  should  remain,  alone,  among  the 
Akka,  served  by  them,  until  that  time  dawned 
when  they  would  have  will  to  destroy  the  evil  they 
had  created — and  even  now — loved;  nor  might 
they  seek  death,  nor  follow  their  judges  until  this 
had  come  to  pass.  This  was  the  doom  they  put 
upon  the  Three  for  the  wickedness  that  had  sprung 
from  their  pride,  and  they  strengthened  it  with 
their  arts  that  it  might  not  be  broken. 


The  Building  of  the  Moon  Pool  377 

"Then  they  passed — to  a  far  land  they  had 
chosen  where  the  Shining  One  could  not  go, 
beyond  the  Black  Precipices  of  Doul,  a  green 
land " 

"Ireland!"  interrupted  Larry,  with  conviction, 
"I  knew  it." 

"Since  then  time  upon  time  had  passed,"  she 
went  on,  unheeding.  "The  people  called  this 
place  Muria  after  their  sunken  land  and  soon  they 
forgot  where  had  been  the  passage  the  Taithu  had 
sealed.  The  moon  king  became  the  Voice  of  the 
Dweller  and  always  with  the  Voice  is  a  woman  of 
the  moon  king's  kin  who  is  its  priestess. 

"And  many  have  been  the  journeys  upward  of 
the  Shining  One,  through  the  Moon  Pool — return 
ing  with  still  others  in  its  coils. 

"And  now  again  has  it  grown  restless,  longing 
for  the  wider  spaces.  It  has  spoken  to  Yolara 
and  to  Lugur  even  as  it  did  to  the  dead  Taithu, 
promising  them  dominion.  And  it  has  grown 
stronger,  drawing  to  itself  power  to  go  far  on  the 
moon  stream  where  it  will.  Thus  was  it  able  to 
seize  your  friend,  Goodwin,  and  Olaf's  wife  and 
babe — and  many  more.  Yolara  and  Lugur  plan 
to  open  way  to  earth  face;  to  depart  with  their 
court  and  under  the  Shining  One  grasp  the  world! 

"And  this  is  the  tale  the  Silent  Ones  bade  me 
tell  you — and  it  is  done." 

Breathlessly  I  had  listened  to  the  stupendous 
epic  of  a  long-lost  world.  Now  I  found  speech  to 
voice  the  question  ever  with  me.,  the  thing  that 


378  The  Moon  Pool 

lay  as  close  to  my  heart  as  did  the  welfare  of  Larry, 
indeed  the  whole  object  of  my  quest — the  fate  of 
Throckmartin  and  those  who  had  passed  with  him 
into  the  Dweller's  lair;  yes,  and  of  Olaf's  wife,  too. 

"Lakla, "  I  said,  "the  friend  who  drew  me  here 
and  those  he  loved  who  went  before  him — can  we 
not  save  them?" 

"The  Three  say  no,  Goodwin."  There  was 
again  in  her  eyes  the  pity  with  which  she  had 
looked  upon  Olaf.  "The  Shining  One — feeds— 
upon  the  flame  of  life  itself,  setting  in  its  place  its 
own  fires  and  its  own  will.  Its  slaves  are  only 
shells  through  which  it  gleams.  Death,  say  the 
Three,  is  the  best  that  can  come  to  them;  yet  will 
that  be  a  boon  great  indeed. " 

"But  they  have  souls,  mavourneen, "  Larry  said 
to  her.  "And  they're  alive  still — in  a  way.  Any- 
Jiow,  their  souls  have  not  gone  from  them." 
•  I  caught  a  hope  from  his  words — sceptic  though 
I  am — holding  that  the  existence  of  soul  has  never 
been  proved  by  dependable  laboratory  methods — 
for  they  recalled  to  me  that  when  I  had  seen 
Throckmartin,  Edith  had  been  close  beside  him. 

"It  was  days  after  his  wife  was  taken,  that  the 
Dweller  seized  Throckmartin,"  I  cried.  "How,  if 
their  wills,  their  life,  were  indeed  gone,  how  did 
they  find  each  other  mid  all  that  horde?  How 
did  they  come  together  in  the  Dweller's  lair?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  answered,  slowly.  "You 
say  they  loved — and  it  is  true  that  love  is  stronger 
even  than  death!" 


The  Building  of  the  Moon  Pool  379 

' '  One  thing  I  don't  understand ' ' — this  was  Larry 
again — "is  why  a  girl  like  you  keeps  coming  out 
of  the  black-haired  crowd;  so  frequently  and  one 
might  say,  so  regularly,  Lakla.  Aren't  there  ever 
any  red-headed  boys — and  if  they  are  what  be 
comes  of  them?" 

"That,  Larry,  I  cannot  answer,"  she  said,  very 
frankly.  "There  was  a  pact  of  some  kind;  how 
made  or  by  whom  I  know  not.  But  for  long  the 
Murians  feared  the  return  of  the  Taiihu  and  greatly 
they  feared  the  Three.  Even  the  Shining  One 
feared  those  who  had  created  it — for  a  time;  and 
not  even  now  is  it  eager  to  face  them — that  I  know. 
Nor  are  Yolara  and  Lugur  so  sure.  It  may  be 
that  the  Three  commanded  it;  but  how  or  why  I 
know  not.  I  only  know  that  it  is  true — for  here 
am  I  and  from  where  else  would  I  have  come?" 

"From  Ireland, "  said  Larry  O'Keefe,  promptly. 
"And  that's  where  you're  going.  For  'tis  no  place 
for  a  girl  like  you  to  have  been  brought  up — Lakla; 
what  with  people  like  frogs,  and  a  half -god  three 
quarters  devil,  and  red  oceans,  an'  the  only  Irish 
things  yourself  and  the  Silent  Ones  up  there,  bless 
their  hearts.  It's  no  place  for  ye,  and  by  the  soul  of 
St.  Patrick,  it's  out  of  it  soon  ye'll  be  gettin'!" 

Larry !  Larry !  If  it  had  but  been  true — and  I 
could  see  Lakla  and  you  beside  me  now ! 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

LARRY   AND   THE   FROG-MEN 

LONG  had  been  her  tale  in  the  telling,  and  too 
long,  perhaps,  have  I  been  in  the  repeating — but 
not  every  day  are  the  mists  rolled  away  to  reveal 
undreamed  secrets  of  earth-youth.  And  I  have 
set  it  down  here,  adding  nothing,  taking  nothing 
from  it;  translating  liberally,  it  is  true,  but  con 
stantly  striving,  while  putting  it  into  idea-forms 
and  phraseology  to  be  readily  understood  by  my 
readers,  to  keep  accurately  to  the  spirit.  And  this, 
I  must  repeat,  I  have  done  throughout  my  narra 
tive,  wherever  it  has  been  necessary  to  record  con 
versation  with  the  Murians. 

Rising,  I  found  I  was  painfully  stiff — as  muscle- 
bound  as  though  I  had  actually  trudged  many 
miles.  Larry,  imitating  me,  gave  an  involuntary 
groan. 

"Faith,  mavourneen,"  he  said  to  Lakla,  re 
lapsing  unconsciously  into  English,  "your  roads 
would  never  wear  out  shoe-leather,  but  they've 
got  their  kick,  just  the  same!" 

She  understood  our  plight,  if  not  his  words; 
gave  a  soft  little  cry  of  mingled  pity  and  self- 
reproach  ;  forced  us  back  upon  the  cushions. 

380 


Larry  and  the  Frog-men       381 

"Oh,  but  I'm  sorry!"  mourned  Lakla,  leaning 
over  us.  "I  had  forgotten — for  those  new  to  it  the 
way  is  a  weary  one,  indeed ' 

She  ran  to  the  doorway,  whistled  a  clear  high  note 
down  the  passage.  Through  the  hangings  came 
two  of  the  frog-men.  She  spoke  to  them  rapidly. 
They  crouched  toward  us,  what  certainly  was 
meant  for  an  amiable  grin  wrinkling  the  grotesque 
muzzles,  baring  the  glistening  rows  of  needle-teeth. 
And  while  I  watched  them  with  the  fascination  that 
they  never  lost  for  me,  the  monsters  calmly  swung 
one  arm  around  our  knees,  lifted  us  up  like  babies 
— and  as  calmly  started  to  walk  away  with  us ! 

"Put  me  down!  Put  me  down, I  say!"  The 
O'Keefe's  voice  was  both  outraged  and  angry; 
squinting  around  I  saw  him  struggling  violently  to 
get  to  his  feet.  The  A  kka  only  held  him  tighter, 
booming  comfortingly,  peering  down  into  his 
flushed  face  inquiringly. 

"But,  Larry — darlin'!" — Lakla's  tones  were — 
well,  maternally  surprised — "you're  stiff  and  sore, 
ana  Kra  can  carry  you  quite  easily.  " 

"I  won't  be  carried!"  sputtered  the  O'Keefe. 
"Damn  it,  Goodwin,  there  are  such  things  as  the 
unities  even  here,  an'  for  a  lieutenant  of  the  Royal 
Air  Force  to  be  picked  up  an'  carted  around  like  a 
— like  a  bundle  of  rags — it's  not  discipline!  Put 
me  down,  ye  omadhaun,  or  111  poke  ye  in  the 
snout!"  he  shouted  to  his  bearer — who  only 
boomed  gently,  and  stared  at  the  handmaiden, 
plainly  for  further  instructions. 


382  The  Moon  Pool 

"But,  Larry — dear!" — Lakla  was  plainly  dis 
tressed — "it  will  hurt  you  to  walk;  and  I  don't 
want  you  to  hurt,  Larry — darlin'!" 

"Holy  shade  of  St.  Patrick!"  moaned  Larry; 
again  he  made  a  mighty  effort  to  tear  himself  from 
the  frog-man's  grip ;  gave  up  with  a  groan.  ' '  Listen, 
alannaf"  he  said  plaintively.  "When  we  get  to 
Ireland,  you  and  I,  we  won't  have  anybody  to  pick 
us  up  and  carry  us  about  every  time  we  get  a  bit 
tired.  And  it's  getting  me  in  bad  habits  you  are!" 

' '  Oh,  yes,  we  will,  Larry ! "  cried  the  handmaiden, 
"because  many,  oh,  many,  of  my  Akka  will  go 
with  us!" 

"Will  you  tell  this — boob! — to  put  me  down!" 
gritted  the  now  thoroughly  aroused  O'Keefe.  I 
couldn't  help  laughing;  he  glared  at  me. 

"Bo-oo-ob?"  exclaimed  Lakla. 

"Yes,  bo-oo-ob!"  said  O'Keefe,  "an"  I  have  no 
desire  to  explain  the  word  in  my  present  position, 
light  of  my  soul!" 

The  handmaiden  sighed,  plainly  dejected.  But 
she  spoke  again  to  the  Akka,  who  gently  lowered 
the  O'Keefe  to  the  floor. 

"I  don't  understand,"  she  said  hopelessly,  "if 
you  want  to  walk,  why,  of  course,  you  shall, 
Larry."  She  turned  to  me.  "Do  you?"  she 
asked. 

"  I  do  not,  "  I  said  firmly. 

"Well,  then,  "  murmured  Lakla,  "go  you,  Larry 
and  Goodwin,  with  Kra  and  Gulk,  and  let  them 
minister  to  you.  After,  sleep  a  little — for  not  soon 


Larry  and  the  Frog-men       383 

will  Rador  and  Olaf  return.  And  let  me  feel  your 
lips  before  you  go,  Larry — darlin' !"  She  covered 
his  eyes  caressingly  with  her  soft  little  palms; 
pushed  him  away. 

' '  Now  go,  "  said  Lakla,  ' '  and  rest ! ' ' 

Unashamed  I  lay  back  against  the  horny  chest 
of  Gulk ;  and  with  a  smile  noticed  that  Larry,  even 
if  he  had  rebelled  at  being  carried,  did  not  disdain 
the  support  of  Kra's  shining,  black-scaled  arm 
which,  slipping  around  his  waist,  half-lifted  him 
along. 

They  parted  a  hanging  and  dropped  us  softly 
down  beside  a  little  pool,  sparkling  with  the  clear 
water  that  had  heretofore  been  brought  us  in  the 
wide  basins.  Then  they  began  to  undress  us. 
And  at  this  point  the  O'Keefe  gave  up. 

"Whatever  they're  going  to  do  we  can't  stop 
'em,  Doc!"  he  moaned.  "Anyway,  I  feel  as 
though  I've  been  pulled  through  a  knot-hole,  and 
I  don't  care- — I  don't  care — as  the  song  says.  " 

When  we  were  stripped  we  were  lowered  gently 
into  the  water.  But  not  long  did  the  Akka  let  us 
splash  about  the  shallow  basin.  They  lifted  us 
out,  and  from  jars  began  deftly  to  anoint  and  rub 
us  with  aromatic  unguents. 

I  think  that  in  all  the  medley  of  grotesque,  of 
tragic,  of  baffling,  strange  and  perilous  experiences 
in  that  underground  world  none  was  more  bizarre 
than  this — valeting.  I  began  to  laugh,  Larry 
joined  me,  and  then  Kra  and  Gulk  joined  in  our 
merriment  with  deep  batrachian  cachinnations 


384  The  Moon  Pool 

and  gruntings.  Then,  having  finished  apparelling 
us  and  still  chuckling,  the  two  touched  our  arms 
and  led  us  out,  into  a  room  whose  circular  sides 
were  ringed  with  soft  divans.  Still  smiling,  I  sank 
at  once  into  sleep. 

How  long  I  slumbered  I  do  not  know.  A  low 
and  thunderous  booming  coming  through  the  deep 
window  slit,  reverberated  through  the  room  and 
awakened  me.  Larry  yawned;  arose  briskly. 

"Sounds  as  though  the  bass  drums  of  every  jazz 
band  in  New  York  were  serenading  us!"  he  ob 
served.  Simultaneously  we  sprang  to  the  window ; 
peered  through. 

We  were  a  little  above  the  level  of  the  bridge, 
and  its  full  length  was  plain  before  us.  Thousands 
upon  thousands  of  the  Akka  were  crowding  upon 
it,  and  far  away  other  hordes  filled  like  a  glittering 
thicket  both  sides  of  the  cavern  ledge's  crescent 
strand.  On  black  scale  and  orange  scale  the  crim 
son  light  fell,  picking  them  off  in  little  flickering 
points. 

Upon  the  platform  from  which  sprang  the  smal 
ler  span  over  the  abyss  were  Lakla,  Olaf ,  and  Rador ; 
the  handmaiden  clearly  acting  as  interpreter  be 
tween  them  and  the  giant  she  had  called  Nak,  the 
Frog  King. 

"Come  on!"  shouted  Larry. 

Out  of  the  open  portal  we  ran;  over  the  World 
Heart  Bridge — and  straight  into  the  group. 

"Oh!"  cried  Lakla,  "I  didn't  want  you  to  wak« 
up  so  soon  Larry — darlin'l" 


Larry  and  the  Frog-men       385 

"See  here,  mavoiirneen!"  Indignation  thrilled 
in  the  Irishman's  voice.  "I'm  not  going  to  be 
done  up  with  baby-ribbons  and  laid  away  in  a 
cradle  for  safe-keeping  while  a  fight  is  on;  don't 
think  it !  Why  didn't  you  call  me  ? ' ' 

"You  needed  rest!"  There  was  indomitable 
determination  in  the  handmaiden's  tones,  the 
eternal  maternal  shining  defiant  from  her  eyes. 
"You  were  tired  and  you  hurt!  You  shouldn't 
have  got  up!" 

"Needed  the  rest!"  groaned  Larry.  "Look 
here,  Lakla,  what  do  you  think  I  am? " 

"You're  all  I  have,"  said  that  maiden  firmly, 
"and  I'm  going  to  take  care  of  you,  Larry — 
darlin'!  Don't  you  ever  think  anything  else." 

"Well,  pulse  of  my  heart,  considering  my  delicate 
health  and  general  fragility,  would  it  hurt  me,  do 
you  think,  to  be  told  what's  going  on?"  he  asked. 

"Not  at  all,  Larry!"  answered  the  handmaiden 
serenely.  "Yolara  went  through  the  Portal.  She 
was  very,  very  angry " 

"She  was  all  the  devil's  woman  that  she  is!" 
rumbled  Olaf . 

' '  Rador  met  the  messenger, "  went  on  the  Golden 
Girl  calmly.  "The  ladala  are  ready  to  rise  when 
Lugur  and  Yolara  lead  their  hosts  against  us. 
They  will  strike  at  those  left  behind.  And  in  the 
meantime  we  shall  have  disposed  my  Akka  to  meet 
Yolara's  men.  And  on  that  disposal  we  must  all 
take  counsel,  you,  Larry,  and  Rador,  Olaf  and 
Goodwin  and  Nak,  the  ruler  of  the  Akka." 
25 


386  The  Moon  Pool 

"Did  the  messenger  give  any  idea  when  Yolara 
expects  to  make  her  little  call?"  asked  Larry. 

"Yes,"  she  answered.  "They  prepare,  and  we 
may  expect  them  in — "  She  gave  the  equivalent 
of  about  thirty-six  hours  of  our  time. 

"But,  Lakla, "  I  said,  the  doubt  that  I  had  long 
been  holding  finding  voice,  "should  the  Shining 
One  come — with  its  slaves — are  the  Three  strong 
enough  to  cope  with  it?" 

There  was  troubled  doubt  in  her  own  eyes. 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  said  at  last,  frankly. 
"You  have  heard  their  story.  What  they  promise 
is  that  they  will  help.  I  do  not  know — any  more 
than  do  you,  Goodwin!" 

I  looked  up  at  the  dome  beneath  which  I  knew 
the  dread  Trinity  stared  forth ;  even  down  upon  us. 
And  despite  the  awe,  the  assurance,  I  had  felt 
when  I  stood  before  them  I,  too,  doubted. 

"Well,"  said  Larry,  "you  and  I,  uncle,"  he 
turned  to  Rador,  "and  Olaf  here  had  better  decide 
just  what  part  of  the  battle  we'll  lead — 

"Lead!"  the  handmaiden  was  appalled.  "  You 
lead,  Larry?  Why  you  are  to  stay  with  Goodwin 
and  with  me — up  there,  there  we  can  watch. " 

"Heart's  beloved,"  O'Keefe  was  stern  indeed. 
"A  thousand  times  I've  looked  Death  straight 
in  the  face,  peered  into  his  eyes.  Yes,  and  with 
ten  thousand  feet  of  space  under  me  an'  bursting 
shells  tickling  the  ribs  of  the  boat  I  was  in.  An' 
d'ye  think  I'll  sit  now  on  the  grand  stand  an' 
watch  while  a  game  like  this  is  being  pulled? 


Larry  and  the  Frog-men       387 

Ye  don't  know  your  future  husband,  soul  of  my 
delight!" 

And  so  we  started  toward  the  golden  opening, 
squads  of  the  frog-men  following  us  soldierly  and 
disappearing  about  the  huge  structure.  Nor  did 
we  stop  until  we  came  to  the  handmaiden's  boudoir. 
There  we  seated  ourselves. 

"Now,"  said  Larry,  "two  things  I  want  to 
know.  First — how  many  can  Yolara  muster 
against  us;  second,  how  many  of  these  Akka  have 
we  to  meet  them?" 

Rador  gave  our  equivalent  for  eighty  thousand 
men  as  the  force  Yolara  could  muster  without 
stripping  her  city.  Against  this  force,  it  appeared, 
we  could  count,  roughly,  upon  two  hundred  thou 
sand  of  the  Akka. 

"And  they're  some  fighters!"  exclaimed  Larry. 
"Hell,  with  odds  like  that  what 're  you  worrying 
about?  It's  over  before  it's  begun." 

"But,  Larree,"  objected  Rador  to  this,  "you 
forget  that  the  nobles  will  have  the  Keih — and 
other  things;  also  that  the  soldiers  have  fought 
against  the  Akka  before  and  will  be  shielded  very- 
well  from  their  spears  and  clubs — and  that  their 
blades  and  javelins  can  bite  through  the  scales  of 
Nak's  warriors.  They  have  many  things " 

"Uncle,"  interjected  O'Keefe,  "one  thing 
they  have  is  your  nerve.  Why,  we're  more  than 

two  to  one.     And  take  it  from  me " 

Without  warning  dropped  the  tragedy! 


CHAPTER  XXXII 
"YOUR  LOVE;   YOUR  LIVES;   YOUR   SOULS!" 

LAKLA  had  taken  no  part  in  the  talk  since  we 
had  reached  her  bower.  She  had  seated  herself 
close  to  the  O'Keefe.  Glancing  at  her  I  had  seen 
steal  over  her  face  that  brooding,  listening  look 
that  was  hers  whenever  in  that  mysterious  com 
munion  with  the  Three.  It  vanished;  swiftly 
she  arose;  interrupted  the  Irishman  without  cere 
mony. 

"Larry  darlin', "  said  the  handmaiden.  "The 
Silent  Ones  summon  us!" 

"When  do  we  go?"  I  asked;  Larry's  face  grew 
bright  with  interest. 

"The  time  is  now,"  she  said — and  hesitated. 
"Larry  dear,  put  your  arms  about  me,"  she  fal 
tered,  "for  there  is  something  cold  that  catches 
at  my  heart — and  I  am  afraid." 

At  his  exclamation  she  gathered  herself  together; 
gave  a  shaky  little  laugh. 

"It's  because  I  love  you  so  that  fear  has  power 
to  plague  me, "  she  told  him. 

Without  another  word  he  bent  and  kissed  her; 
in  silence  we  passed  on,  his  arm  still  about  her 
girdled  waist,  golden  head  and  black  close  together. 

388 


"  Your  Love,  Lives,  Souls  "     389 

Soon  we  stood  before  the  crimson  slab  that  was  the 
door  to  the  sanctuary  of  the  Silent  Ones.  She 
poised  uncertainly  before  it;  then  with  a  defiant 
arching  of  the  proud  little  head  that  sent  all  the 
bronze-flecked  curls  flying,  she  pressed.  It  slipped 
aside  and  once  more  the  opalescence  gushed  out, 
flooding  all  about  us. 

Dazzled  as  before,  I  followed  through  the  lam 
bent  cascades  pouring  from  the  high,  carved  walls; 
paused,  and  my  eyes  clearing,  looked  up — straight 
into  the  faces  of  the  Three.  The  angled  orbs  cen 
tred  upon  the  handmaiden;  softened  as  I  had 
seen  them  do  when  first  we  had  faced  them.  She 
smiled  up ;  seemed  to  listen. 

"Come  closer,"  she  commanded,  "close  to  the 
feet  of  the  Silent  Ones. " 

We  moved,  pausing  at  the  very  base  of  the  dais. 
The  sparkling  mists  thinned;  the  great  heads  bent 
slightly  over  us;  through  the  veils  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  huge  columnar  necks,  enormous  shoul 
ders  covered  with  draperies  as  of  pale-blue  fire. 

I  came  back  to  attention  with  a  start,  for  Lakla 
was  answering  a  question  only  heard  by  her,  and, 
answering  it  aloud,  I  perceived  for  our  benefit;  for 
whatever  was  the  mode  of  communication  between 
those  whose  handmaiden  she  was,  and  her,  it  was 
clearly  independent  of  speech. 

"He  has  been  told,"  she  said,  "even  as  you 
commanded. ' ' 

Did  I  see  a  shadow  of  pain  flit  across  the  flicker 
ing  eyes?  Wondering,  I  glanced  at  Lakla's  face 


390  The  Moon  Pool 

and  there  was  a  dawn  of  foreboding  and  bewilder 
ment.  For  a  little  she  held  her  listening  attitude; 
then  the  gaze  of  the  Three  left  her;  focused  upon 
the  O'Keefe. 

"Thus  speak  the  Silent  Ones — through  Lakla, 
their  handmaiden,"  the  golden  voice  was  like  low 
trumpet  notes.  "At  the  threshold  of  doom  is  that 
world  of  yours  above.  Yea,  even  the  doom,  Good 
win,  that  ye  dreamed  and  the  shadow  of  which, 
looking  into  your  mind  they  see,  say  the  Three. 
For  not  upon  earth  and  never  upon  earth  can  man 
find  means  to  destroy  the  Shining  One. " 

She  listened  again — and  the  foreboding  deep 
ened  to  an  amazed  fear. 

"They  say,  the  Silent  Ones,  "  she  went  on,  "that 
they  know  not  whether  even  they  have  power  to 
destroy.  Energies  we  know  nothing  of  entered 
into  its  shaping  and  are  part  of  it;  and  still  other 
energies  it  has  gathered  to  itself" — she  paused;  a 
shadow  of  puzzlement  crept  into  her  voice — ' '  and 
other  energies  still,  forces  that  ye  do  know  and 
symbolize  by  certain  names — hatred  and  pride 
and  lust  and  many  others  which  are  forces  real  as 
that  hidden  in  the  Keth;  and  among  them — fear, 
which  weakens  all  those  others —  Again  she 
paused. 

"But  within  it  is  nothing  of  that  greatest  of  all, 
that  which  can  make  powerless  all  the  evil  others, 
that  which  we  call — love, "  she  ended  softly. 

"I'd  like  to  be  the  one  to  put  a  little  more  fear 
in  the  beast,"  whispered  Larry  to  me,  grimly  in 


"  Your  Love,  Lives,  Souls  "     391 

our  own  English.  The  three  weird  heads  bent, 
ever  so  slightly — and  I  gasped,  and  Larry  grew  a 
little  white  as  Lakla  nodded 

"They  say,  Larry,"  she  said,  "that  there  you 
touch  one  side  of  the  heart  of  the  matter — for  it  is 
through  the  way  of  fear  the  Silent  Ones  hope  to 
strike  at  the  very  life  of  the  Shining  One ! " 

The  visage  Larry  turned  to  me  was  eloquent  of 
wonder;  and  mine  reflected  it — for  what  really 
were  this  Three  to  whom  our  minds  were  but  open 
pages,  so  easily  read?  Not  long  could  we  conjec 
ture  ;  Lakla  broke  the  little  silence. 

"This,  they  say,  is  what  is  to  happen.  First 
will  come  upon  us  Lugur  and  Yolara  with  all  their 
host.  Because  of  fear  the  Shining  One  will  lurk 
behind  within  its  lair;  for  despite  all,  the  Dweller 
does  dread  the  Three,  and  only  them.  With  this 
host  the  Voice  and  the  priestess  will  strive  to  con 
quer.  And  if  they  do,  then  will  they  be  strong 
enough,  too,  to  destroy  us  all.  For  if  they  take 
the  abode  they  banish  from  the  Dweller  all  fear 
and  sound  the  end  of  the  Three. 

' '  Then  will  the  Shining  One  be  all  free  indeed ;  free 
to  go  out  into  the  world,  free  to  do  there  as  it  wills ! 

"But  if  they  do  not  conquer — and  the  Shining 
One  comes  not  to  their  aid,  abandoning  them  even 
as  it  abandoned  its  own  Taithu — then  will  the 
Three  be  loosed  from  a  part  of  their  doom,  and 
they  will  go  through  the  Portal,  seek  the  Shining 
One  beyond  the  Veil,  and,  piercing  it  through  fear's 
opening,  destroy  it. " 


392  The  Moon  Pool 

"That's  quite  clear,  "  murmured  the  O'Keefe  in 
my  ear.  ' '  Weaken  the  morale — then  smash.  I ' ve 
seen  it  happen  a  dozen  times  in  Europe.  While 
they've  got  their  nerve  there's  not  a  thing  you 
can  do;  get  their  nerve — and  not  a  thing  can 
they  do.  And  yet  in  both  cases  they're  the  same 
men." 

Lakla  had  been  listening  again.  She  turned, 
thrust  out  hands  to  Larry,  a  wild  hope  in  her  eyes — 
and  yet  a  hope  half  shamed. 

' '  They  say, ' '  she  cried,  ' '  that  they  give  us  choice. 
Remembering  that  your  world  doom  hangs  in  the 
balance,  we  have  choice — choice  to  stay  and  help 
fight  Yolara's  armies — and  they  say  they  look  not 
lightly  on  that  help.  Or  choice  to  go — and  if  so 
be  you  choose  the  latter,  then  will  they  show  an 
other  way  that  leads  into  your  world!" 

A  flush  had  crept  over  the  O'Keefe's  face  as  she 
was  speaking.  He  took  her  hands  and  looked  long 
into  the  golden  eyes ;  glancing  up  I  saw  the  Trinity 
were  watching  them  intently — imperturbably. 

"What  do  you  say,mavourneen?"  asked  Larry 
gently.  The  handmaiden  hung  her  head ;  trembled. 

"Your  words  shall  be  mine,  O  one  I  love, "  she 
whispered.  "So  going  or  staying,  I  am  beside 
you." 

"And  you,  Goodwin?"  he  turned  to  me.  I 
shrugged  my  shoulders — after  all  I  had  no  one  to 
care. 

"It's  up  to  you,  Larry,"  I  remarked,  deliber 
ately  choosing  his  own  phraseology. 


"Your  Love,  Lives,  Souls"     393 

The  O'Keefe  straightened,  squared  his  shoulders, 
gazed  straight  into  the  flame-flickering  eyes. 

"We  stick!"  he  said  briefly. 

Shamefacedly  I  recall  now  that  at  the  time  I 
thought  this  colloquialism  not  only  irreverent,  but 
in  somewhat  bad  taste.  I  am  glad  to  say  I  was 
alone  in  that  bit  of  weakness.  The  face  that  Lakla 
turned  to  Larry  was  radiant  with  love,  and  al 
though  the  shamed  hope  had  vanished  from  the 
sweet  eyes,  they  were  shining  with  adoring  pride. 
And  the  marble  visages  of  the  Three  softened,  and 
the  little  flames  died  down. 

"Wait,"  said  Lakla,  "there  is  one  other  thing 
they  say  we  must  answer  before  they  will  hold  us  to 
that  promise — wait " 

She  listened,  and  then  her  face  grew  white — 
white  as  those  of  the  Three  themselves;  the  glo 
rious  eyes  widened,  stark  terror  filling  them;  the 
whole  lithe  body  of  her  shook  like  a  reed  in  the  wind. 

"Not  that!"  she  cried  out  to  the  Three.  "Oh, 
not  that !  Not  Larry — let  me  go  even  as  you  will 
— but  not  him!"  She  threw  up  frantic  hands  to 
the  woman-being  of  the  Trinity.  "Let  me  bear  it 
alone, ' '  she  wailed.  ' '  Alone — mother !  Mother ! ' ' 

The  Three  bent  their  heads  toward  her,  their 
faces  pitiful,  and  from  the  eyes  of  the  woman  One 
rolled — tears!  Larry  leaped  to  Lakla 's  side. 

" Mavourneenf"  he  cried.  "Sweetheart,  what 
have  they  said  to  you? " 

He  glared  up  at  the  Silent  Ones,  his  hand  twitch 
ing  toward  the  high-hung  pistol  holster. 


394  The  Moon  Pool 

The  handmaiden  swung  to  him;  threw  white 
arms  around  his  neck;  held  her  head  upon  his 
heart  until  her  sobbing  ceased. 

"This  they — say — the  Silent  Ones, "  she  gasped 
and  then  all  the  courage  of  her  came  back.  "O 
heart  of  mine!"  she  whispered  to  Larry,  gazing 
deep  into  his  eyes,  his  anxious  face  cupped  between 
her  white  palms.  "This  they  say — that  should 
the  Shining  One  come  to  succour  Yolara  and  Lugur, 
should  it  conquer  its  fear — and — do  this — then  is 
there  but  one  way  left  to  destroy  it — and  to  save 
your  world." 

She  swayed;  he  gripped  her  tightly 

"But  one  way — you  and  I  must  go — together — 
into  its  embrace!  Yea,  we  must  pass  within  it — 
loving  each  other,  loving  the  world,  realizing  to 
the  full  all  that  we  sacrifice  and  sacrificing  all,  our 
love,  our  lives,  perhaps  even  that  you  call  soul,  O 
loved  one;  must  give  ourselves  all  to  the  Shining 
One — gladly,  freely,  our  love  for  each  other  flam 
ing  high  within  us — that  this  curse  shall  pass  away ! 
For  if  we  do  this,  pledge  the  Three,  then  shall  that 
power  of  love  we  carry  into  it  weaken  for  a  time 
all  that  evil  which  the  Shining  One  has  become — 
and  in  that  time  the  Three  can  strike  and  slay ! " 

The  blood  rushed  from  my  heart;  scientist  that 
I  am,  essentially,  my  reason  rejected  any  such 
solution  as  this  of  the  activities  of  the  Dweller. 
Was  it  not,  the  thought  flashed,  a  propitiation  by 
the  Three  out  of  their  own  weakness — and  as  it 
flashed  I  looked  up  to  see  their  eyes,  full  of  sorrow, 


"Your  Love,  Lives,  Souls"     395 

on  mine — and  knew  they  read  the  thought.  Then 
into  the  whirling  vortex  of  my  mind  came  steady 
ing  reflections — of  history  changed  by  the  power  of 
hate,  of  passion,  of  ambition,  and  most  of  all,  by 
love.  Was  there  not  actual  dynamic  energy  in 
these  things — was  there  not  a  Son  of  Man  who 
hung  upon  a  cross  on  Calvary? 

"Dear  love  o'  mine,"  said  the  O'Keefe  quietly, 
"is  it  in  your  heart  to  say  yes  to  this?" 

"Larry, "  she  spoke  low,  "what  is  in  your  heart 
is  in  mine;  but  I  did  so  want  to  go  with  you,  to  live 
with  you — to — to  bear  you  children,  Larry — and 
to  see  the  sun." 

My  eyes  were  wet;  dimly  through  them  I  saw 
his  gaze  on  me. 

"If  the  world  is  at  stake,"  he  whispered,  "why 
of  course  there's  only  one  thing  to  do.  God  knows 
I  never  was  afraid  when  I  was  fighting  up  there — 
and  many  a  better  man  than  me  has  gone  West  with 
shell  and  bullet  for  the  same  idea ;  but  these  things 
aren't  shell  and  bullet — but  I  hadn't  Lakla  then 
— and  it's  the  damned  doubt  I  have  behind  it 
all." 

He  turned  to  the  Three — and  did  I  in  their  poise 
sense  a  rigidity,  an  anxiety  that  sat  upon  them  as 
alienly  as  would  divinity  upon  men? 

"Tell  me  this,  Silent  Ones,"  he  cried.  "If  we 
do  this,  Lakla  and  I,  is  it  sure  you  are  that  you  can 
slay  the — Thing,  and  save  my  world?  Is  it  sure 
you  are?" 

For  the  first  and  the  last  time,  I  heard  the  voice 


396  The  Moon  Pool 

of  the  Silent  Ones.  It  was  the  man-being  at  the 
right  who  spoke. 

"We  are  sure,  "  the  tones  rolled  out  like  deepest 
organ  notes,  shaking,  vibrating,  assailing  the  ears 
as  strangely  as  their  appearance  struck  the  eyes. 
Another  moment  the  O'Keefe  stared  at  them. 
Once  more  he  squared  his  shoulders ;  lifted  Lakla's 
chin  and  smiled  into  her  eyes. 

"We  stick ! "  he  said  again,  nodding  to  the  Three. 

Over  the  visages  of  the  Trinity  fell  benignity 
that  was — awesome;  the  tiny  flames  in  the  jet 
orbs  vanished,  leaving  them  wells  in  which  brimmed 
serenity,  hope — an  extraordinary  joyfulness.  The 
woman  sat  upright,  tender  gaze  fixed  upon  the 
man  and  girl.  Her  great  shoulders  raised  as 
though  she  had  lifted  her  arms  and  had  drawn  to 
her  those  others.  The  three  faces  pressed  together 
for  a  fleeting  moment;  raised  again.  The  woman 
bent  forward — and  as  she  did  so,  Lakla  and  Larry, 
as  though  drawn  by  some  outer  force,  were  swept 
upon  the  dais. 

Out  from  the  sparkling  mist  stretched  two  hands, 
enormously  long,  six-fingered,  thumbless,  a  faint 
tracery  of  golden  scales  upon  their  white  backs, 
utterly  unhuman  and  still  in  some  strange  way 
beautiful,  radiating  power  and — all  womanly! 

They  stretched  forth;  they  touched  the  bent 
heads  of  Lakla  and  the  O'Keefe;  caressed  them, 
drew  them  together,  softly  stroked  them — lovingly, 
with  more  than  a  touch  of  benediction.  And  with 
drew! 


"Your  Love,  Lives,  Souls"     397 

The  sparkling  mists  rolled  up  once  more,  hiding 
the  Silent  Ones.  As  silently  as  once  before  we 
had  gone  we  passed  out  of  the  place  of  light,  be- 
yong  the  crimson  stone,  back  to  the  handmaiden's 
chamber. 

Only  once  on  our  way  did  Larry  speak. 

"Cheer  up,  darlin',"  he  said  to  her,  "it's  a  long 
way  yet  before  the  finish.  An'  are  you  thinking 
that  Lugur  and  Yolara  are  going  to  pull  this  thing 
off?  Are  you?" 

The  handmaiden  only  looked  at  him,  eyes  love 
and  sorrow  filled. 

"They  are!"  said  Larry.  "They  are!  Like 
hell  they  are!" 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

THE   MEETING   OF   TITANS 

IT  is  not  my  intention,  nor  is  it  possible  no  matter 
how  interesting  to  me,  to  set  down  ad  seriatim  the 
happenings  of  the  next  twelve  hours.  But  a  few 
will  not  be  denied  recital. 

O'Keefe  regained  cheerfulness. 

"After  all,  Doc, "  he  said  to  me,  "it's  a  beautiful 
scrap  we're  going  to  have.  At  the  worst  the  worst 
is  no  more  than  the  leprechaun  warned  about.  I 
would  have  told  the  Taitha  De  about  the  banshee 
raid  he  promised  me;  but  I  was  a  bit  taken  off  my 
feet  at  the  time.  The  old  girl  an'  all  the  clan  '11  be 
along,  said  the  little  green  man,  an'  I  bet  the  Three 
will  be  damned  glad  of  it,  take  it  from  me." 

Lakla,  shining-eyed  and  half  fearful  too : 

' '  I  have  other  tidings  that  I  am  afraid  will  please 
you  little,  Larry — darlin'.  The  Silent  Ones  say  that 
you  must  not  go  into  battle  yourself.  You  must 
stay  here  with  me,  and  with  Goodwin — for  if — if — 
the  Shining  One  does  come,  then  must  we  be  here 
to  meet  it.  And  you  might  not  be,  you  know, 
Larry,  if  you  fight, "  she  said,  looking  shyly  up  at 
him  from  under  the  long  lashes. 

398 


The  Meeting  of  Titans         399 

The  O'Keefe's  jaw  dropped. 

"That's  about  the  hardest  yet,"  he  answered 
slowly.  "Still — I  see  their  point;  the  lamb  cor 
ralled  for  the  altar  has  no  right  to  stray  out  among 
the  lions,"  he  added  grimly.  "Don't  worry, 
sweet, "  he  told  her.  "As  long  as  I've  sat  in  the 
game  I'll  stick  to  the  rules. " 

Olaf  took  fierce  joy  in  the  coming  fray. 

"The  Norns  spin  close  to  the  end  of  this  web, " 
he  rumbled.  "Ja!  And  the  threads  of  Lugur 
and  the  Heks  woman  are  between  their  ringers 
for  the  breaking!  Thor  will  be  with  me,  and  I 
have  fashioned  me  a  hammer  in  glory  of  Thor. " 
In  his  hand  was  an  enormous  mace  of  black 
metal,  fully  five  feet  long,  crowned  with  a  massive 
head. 

I  pass  to  the  twelve  hours'  closing. 

At  the  end  of  the  coria  road  where  the  giant  fern- 
land  met  the  edge  of  the  cavern's  ruby  floor, 
hundreds  of  the  Akka  were  stationed  in  ambush, 
armed  with  their  spears  tipped  with  the  rotting 
death  and  their  nail-studded,  metal-headed  clubs. 
These  were  to  attack  when  the  Murians  debouched 
from  the  corials.  We  had  little  hope  of  doing  more 
here  than  effect  some  attrition  of  Yolara's  hosts, 
for  at  this  place  the  captains  of  the  Shining  One 
could  wield  the  Keth  and  their  other  uncanny 
weapons  freely.  We  had  learned,  too,  that  every 
forge  and  artisan  had  been  put  to  work  to  make 
an  armour  Marakinoff  had  devised  to  withstand 
the  natural  battle  equipment  of  the  frog-people — 


400  The  Moon  Pool 

and  both  Larry  and  I  had  a  disquieting  faith  in 
the  Russian's  ingenuity. 

At  any  rate  the  numbers  against  us  would  be 
lessened. 

Next,  under  the  direction  of  the  frog-king, 
levies  commanded  by  subsidiary  chieftains  had 
completed  rows  of  rough  walls  along  the  probable 
route  of  the  Murians  through  the  cavern.  These 
afforded  the  Akka  a  fair  protection  behind  which 
they  could  hurl  their  darts  and  spears — curiously 
enough  they  had  never  developed  the  bow  as  a 
weapon. 

At  the  opening  of  the  cavern  a  strong  barricade 
stretched  almost  to  the  two  ends  of  the  crescent 
strand;  almost,  I  say,  because  there  had  not  been 
time  to  build  it  entirely  across  the  mouth. 

And  from  edge  to  edge  of  the  titanic  bridge, 
from  where  it  sprang  outward  at  the  shore  of  the 
Crimson  Sea  to  a  hundred  feet  away  from  the 
golden  door  of  the  abode,  barrier  after  barrier  was 
piled. 

Behind  the  wall  defending  the  mouth  of  the 
cavern,  waited  other  thousands  of  the  Akka.  At 
each  end  of  the  unfinished  barricade  they  were 
mustered  thickly,  and  at  right  and  left  of  the 
crescent  where  their  forests  began,  more  legions 
were  assembled  to  make  way  up  to  the  ledge  as 
opportunity  offered. 

Rank  upon  rank  they  manned  the  bridge  bar 
riers;  they  swarmed  over  the  pinnacles  and  in  the 
hollows  of  the  island's  ragged  outer  lip;  the  domed 


The  Meeting  of  Titans        401 

castle  was  a  hive  of  them,  if  I  may  mix  my  meta 
phors — and  the  rocks  and  gardens  that  surrounded 
the  abode  glittered  with  them. 

"Now,"  said  the  handmaiden,  "there's  nothing 
else  we  can  do — save  wait." 

She  led  us  out  through  her  bower  and  up  the 
little  path  that  ran  to  the  embrasure. 

Through  the  quiet  came  a  sound,  a  sighing,  a 
half -mournful  whispering  that  beat  about  us  and 
fled  away. 

"They  come!"  cried  Lakla,  the  light  of  battle 
in  her  eyes.  Larry  drew  her  to  him,  raised  her  in 
his  arms,  kissed  her. 

"A  woman!"  acclaimed  the  O'Keefe.  "A 
real  woman — and  mine!" 

With  the  cry  of  the  Portal  there  was  movement 
among  the  Akka,  the  glint  of  moving  spears, 
flash  of  metal-tipped  clubs,  rattle  of  horny  spurs, 
rumblings  of  battle-cries. 

And  we  waited — waited  it  seemed  interminably, 
gaze  fastened  upon  the  low  wall  across  the  cavern 
mouth.  Suddenly  I  remembered  the  crystal 
through  which  I  had  peered  when  the  hidden 
assassins  had  crept  upon  us.  Mentioning  it  to 
Lakla,  she  gave  a  little  cry  of  vexation,  a  command 
to  her  attendant;  and  not  long  that  faithful  if 
unusual  lady  had  returned  with  a  tray  of  the 
glasses.  Raising  mine,  I  saw  the  lines  furthest 
away  leap  into  sudden  activity.  Spurred  warrior 
after  warrior  leaped  upon  the  barricade  and  over 
it.  Flashes  of  intense  green  light,  mingled  with 
26 


402  The  Moon  Pool 

gleams  like  lightning  strokes  of  concentrated 
moon  rays,  sprang  from  behind  the  wall — sprang 
and  struck  and  burned  upon  the  scales  of  the 
batrachians. 

"They  come!"  whispered  Lakla. 

At  the  far  ends  of  the  crescent  a  terrific  milling 
had  begun.  Here  it  was  plain  the  Akka  were 
holding.  Faintly,  for  the  distance  was  great,  I 
could  see  fresh  force  upon  force  rush  up  and  take 
the  places  of  those  who  had  fallen. 

Over  each  of  these  ends,  and  along  the  whole 
line  of  the  barricade  a  mist  of  dancing,  diamonded 
atoms  began  to  rise;  sparking,  coruscating  points 
of  diamond  dust  that  darted  and  danced. 

What  had  once  been  Lakla's  guardians — dancing 
now  in  the  nothingness ! 

"God,  but  it's  hard  to  stay  here  like  this!" 
groaned  the  O'Keefe;  Olaf's  teeth  were  bared,  the 
lips  drawn  back  in  such  a  fighting  grin  as  his 
ancestors  berserk  on  their  raven  ships  must  have 
borne;  Rador  was  livid  with  rage;  the  hand 
maiden's  nostrils  flaring  wide,  all  her  wrathful  soul 
in  her  eyes. 

Suddenly,  while  we  looked,  the  rocky  wall 
which  the  Akka  had  built  at  the  cavern  mouth — 
was  not!  It  vanished,  as  though  an  unseen, 
unbelievably  gigantic  hand  had  with  the  light 
ning's  speed  swept  it  away.  And  with  it  vanished, 
too,  long  lines  of  the  great  amphibians  close 
behind  it. 

Then  down  upon  the  ledge,  dropping  into  the 


The  Meeting  of  Titans        403 

Crimson  Sea,  sending  up  geysers  of  ruby  spray, 
dashing  on  the  bridge,  crushing  the  frog-men, 
fell  a  shower  of  stone,  mingled  with  distorted 
shapes  and  fragments  whose  scales  still  flashed 
meteoric  as  they  hurled  from  above. 

"That  which  makes  things  fall  upward,"  hissed 
Olaf .  ' '  That  which  I  saw  in  the  garden  of  Lugur ! '  * 

The  fiendish  agency  of  destruction  which  Mar- 
akinoff  had  revealed  to  Larry;  the  force  that  cut 
off  gravitation  and  sent  all  things  within  its  range 
racing  outward  into  space! 

And  now  over  the  debris  upon  the  ledge,  striking 
with  long  sword  and  daggers,  here  and  there  a  cap 
tain  flashing  the  green  ray,  moving  on  in  ordered 
squares,  came  the  soldiers  of  the  Shining  One. 
Nearer  and  nearer  the  verge  of  the  ledge  they 
pushed  Nak's  warriors.  Leaping  upon  the  dwarfs, 
smiting  them  with  spear  and  club,  with  teeth  and 
spur,  the  Akka  fought  like  devils.  Quivering  under 
the  ray,  they  leaped  and  dragged  down  and  slew. 

Now  there  was  but  one  long  line  of  the  frog-men 
at  the  very  edge  of  the  cliff. 

And  ever  the  clouds  of  dancing,  diamonded 
atoms  grew  thicker  over  them  all! 

That  last  thin  line  of  the  Akka  was  going;  yet 
they  fought  to  the  last,  and  none  toppled  over  the 
lip  without  at  least  one  of  the  armoured  Murians 
in  his  arms. 

My  gaze  dropped  to  the  foot  of  the  cliffs. 
Stretched  along  their  length  was  a  wide  ribbon  of 
beauty — a  shimmering  multitude  of  gleaming, 


404  The  Moon  Pool 

pulsing,  prismatic  moons;  glowing,  glowing  ever 
brighter,  ever  more  wondrous — the  gigantic 
Medusae  globes  feasting  on  dwarf  and  frog-man 
alike! 

Across  the  waters,  faintly,  came  a  triumphant 
shouting  from  Lugur's  and  Yolara's  men ! 

Was  the  ruddy  light  of  the  place  lessening, 
growing  paler,  changing  to  a  faint  rose?  There 
was  an  exclamation  from  Larry;  something  like 
hope  relaxed  the  drawn  muscles  of  his  face.  He 
pointed  to  the  aureate  dome  wherein  sat  the 
Three — and  then  I  saw! 

Out  of  it,  through  the  long  transverse  slit 
through  which  the  Silent  Ones  kept  their  watch  on 
cavern,  bridge,  and  abyss,  a  torrent  of  the  opales 
cent  light  was  pouring.  It  cascaded  like  a  water 
fall,  and  as  it  flowed  it  spread  whirling  out,  in 
columns  and  eddies,  clouds  and  wisps  of  misty, 
curdled  coruscations.  It  hung  like  a  veil  over  all 
the  island,  filtering  everywhere,  driving  back  the 
crimson  light  as  though  possessed  of  impenetrable 
substance — and  still  it  cast  not  the  faintest  shadow 
ing  upon  our  vision. 

"Good  God!"  breathed  Larry.     "Look!" 

The  radiance  was  marching — marching — down 
the  colossal  bridge.  It  moved  swiftly,  in  some 
unthinkable  way  intelligently.  It  swathed  the 
Akka,  and  closer,  ever  closer  it  swept  toward  the 
approach  upon  which  Yolara's  men  had  now 
gained  foothold. 

From  their  ranks  came  flash  after  flash  of  the 


The  Meeting  of  Titans        4°5 

green  ray — aimed  at  the  abode !  But  as  the  light 
sped  and  struck  the  opalescence  it  was  blotted  out! 
The  shimmering  mists  seemed  to  enfold,  to  dissi 
pate  it. 

Lakla  drew  a  deep  breath. 

' '  The  Silent  Ones  forgive  me  for  doubting  them, " 
she  whispered;  and  again  hope  blossomed  on  her 
face  even  as  it  did  on  Larry's. 

The  frog-men  were  gaining.  Clothed  in  the 
armour  of  that  mist,  they  pressed  back  from  the 
bridge-head  the  invaders.  There  was  another 
prodigious  movement  at  the  ends  of  the  crescent, 
and  racing  up,  pressing  against  the  dwarfs,  came 
other  legions  of  Nak's  warriors.  And  re-enforcing 
those  out  on  the  prodigious  arch,  the  frog-men 
stationed  in  the  gardens  below  us  poured  back  to 
the  castle  and  out  through  the  open  Portal. 

' '  They're  licked ! ' '  shouted  Larry.  ' '  They  're— 

So  quickly  I  could  not  follow  the  movement 
his  automatic  leaped  to  his  hand — spoke,  once  and 
again  and  again.  Rador  leaped  to  the  head  of 
the  little  path,  sword  in  hand;  Olaf,  shouting  and 
whirling  his  mace,  followed.  I  strove  to  get  my 
own  gun  quickly. 

For  up  that  path  were  running  twoscore  of 
Lugur's  men,  while  from  below  Lugur's  own  voice 
roared. 

' '  Quick !  Slay  not  the  handmaiden  or  her  lover ! 
Carry  them  down.  Quick !  But  slay  the  others ! ' ' 

The  handmaiden  raced  toward  Larry,  stopped, 
whistled  shrilly — again  and  again.  Larry's  pistol 


406  The  Moon  Pool 

was  empty,  but  as  the  dwarfs  rushed  upon  him  I 
dropped  two  of  them  with  mine.  It  jammed — I 
could  not  use  it ;  I  sprang  to  his  side.  Rador  was 
down,  struggling  in  a  heap  of  Lugur's  men.  Olaf, 
a  Viking  of  old,  was  whirling  his  great  hammer, 
and  striking,  striking  through  armour,  flesh,  and 
bone. 

Larry  was  down,  Lakla  flew  to  him.  But  the 
Norseman,  now  streaming  blood  from  a  dozen 
wounds,  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  coming,  turned, 
thrust  out  a  mighty  hand,  sent  her  reeling  back, 
and  then  with  his  hammer  cracked  the  skulls  of 
those  trying  to  drag  the  O'Keefe  down  the  path. 

A  cry  from  Lakla — the  dwarfs  had  seized  her, 
had  lifted  her  despite  her  struggles,  were  carrying 
her  away.  One  I  dropped  with  the  butt  of  my 
useless  pistol,  and  then  went  down  myself  under 
the  rush  of  another. 

Through  the  clamour  I  heard  a  booming  of  the 
Akka,  closer,  closer;  then  through  it  the  bellow  of 
Lugur.  I  made  a  mighty  effort,  swung  a  hand  up, 
and  sunk  my  fingers  in  the  throat  of  the  soldier 
striving  to  kill  me.  Writhing  over  him,  my 
fingers  touched  a  poniard;  I  thrust  it  deep,  stag 
gered  to  my  feet. 

The  O'Keefe,  shielding  Lakla,  was  battling 
with  a  long  sword  against  a  half  dozen  of  the 
soldiers.  I  started  toward  him,  was  struck,  and 
under  the  impact  hurled  to  the  ground.  Dizzily 
I  raised  myself — and  leaning  upon  my  elbow, 
stared  and  moved  no  more.  For  the  dwarfs  lay 


The  Meeting  of  Titans        4°7 

dead,  and  Larry,  holding  Lakla  tightly,  was 
staring  even  as  I,  and  ranged  at  the  head  of  the 
path  were  the  Akka,  whose  booming  advance  in 
obedience  to  the  handmaiden's  call  I  had  heard. 

And  at  what  we  all  stared  was  Olaf,  crimson 
with  his  wounds,  and  Lugur,  in  blood-red  armour, 
locked  in  each  other's  grip,  struggling,  smiting, 
tearing,  kicking,  and  swaying  about  the  little  space 
before  the  embrasure.  I  crawled  over  toward  the 
O'Keefe.  He  raised  his  pistol,  dropped  it. 

"Can't  hit  him  without  hitting  Olaf,"  he 
whispered.  Lakla  signalled  the  frog-men;  they 
advanced  toward  the  two — but  Olaf  saw  them, 
broke  the  red  dwarf's  hold,  sent  Lugur  reeling  a 
dozen  feet  away. 

"No!"  shouted  the  Norseman,  the  ice  of  his 
pale-blue  eyes  glinting  like  frozen  flames,  blood 
streaming  down  his  face  and  dripping  from  his 
hands.  "No!  Lugur  is  mine!  None  but  me 
slays  him!  Ho,  you  Lugur — "  and  cursed  him 
and  Yolara  and  the  Dweller  hideously — I  cannot 
set  those  curses  down  here. 

They  spurred  Lugur.  Mad  now  as  the  Norse 
man,  the  red  dwarf  sprang.  Olaf  struck  a  blow 
that  would  have  killed  an  ordinary  man,  but  Lugur 
only  grunted,  swept  in,  and  seized  him  about  the 
waist ;  one  mighty  arm  began  to  creep  up  toward 
Huldricksson's  throat. 

"  'Ware,  Olaf!"  cried  O'Keefe;  but  Olaf  did  not 
answer.  He  waited  until  the  red  dwarf's  hand  was 
close  to  his  shoulder;  and  then,  with  an  incredibly 


408  The  Moon  Pool 

rapid  movement — once  before  had  I  seen  something 
like  it  in  a  wrestling  match  between  Papuans — he 
had  twisted  Lugur  around;  twisted  him  so  that 
Olaf 's  right  arm  lay  across  the  tremendous  breast, 
the  left  behind  the  neck,  and  Olaf 's  left  leg  held  the 
Voice's  armoured  thighs  viselike  against  his  right 
knee  while  over  that  knee  lay  the  small  of  the  red 
dwarf's  back. 

For  a  second  or  two  the  Norseman  looked  down 
upon  his  enemy,  motionless  in  that  paralyzing 
grip.  And  then — slowly — he  began  to  break 
him! 

Lakla  gave  a  little  cry;  made  a  motion  toward 
the  two.  But  Larry  drew  her  head  down  against 
his  breast,  hiding  her  eyes;  then  fastened  his  own 
upon  the  pair,  white-faced,  stern. 

Slowly,  ever  so  slowly,  proceeded  Olaf.  Twice 
Lugur  moaned.  At  the  end  he  screamed — horri 
bly.  There  was  a  cracking  sound,  as  of  a  stout 
stick  snapped. 

Huldricksson  stooped,  silently.  He  picked  up 
the  limp  body  of  the  Voice,  not  yet  dead,  for  the 
eyes  rolled,  the  lips  strove  to  speak;  lifted  it, 
walked  to  the  parapet,  swung  it  twice  over  his 
head,  and  cast  it  down  to  the  red  waters/ 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

THE   COMING  OF   THE   SHINING  ONE 

THE  Norseman  turned  toward  us.  There  was 
now  no  madness  in  his  eyes ;  only  a  great  weariness. 
And  there  was  peace  on  the  once  tortured  face. 

''Helma, "  he  whispered,  "I  go  a  little  before! 
Soon  you  will  come  to  me — to  me  and  the  Yndling 
who  will  await  you — Helma,  mine  Hebe  I" 

Blood  gushed  from  his  mouth;  he  swayed,  fell. 
And  thus  died  Olaf  Huldricksson. 

We  looked  down  upon  him;  nor  did  Lakla,  nor 
Larry,  nor  I  try  to  hide  our  tears.  And  as  we 
stood  the  Akka  brought  to  us  that  other  mighty 
fighter,  Rador;  but  in  him  there  was  life,  and  we 
attended  to  him  there  as  best  we  could. 

Then  Lakla  spoke. 

"We  will  bear  him  into  the  castle  where  we 
may  give  him  greater  care,"  she  said.  "For,  lo! 
the  hosts  of  Yolara  have  been  beaten  back;  and 
on  the  bridge  comes  Nak  with  tidings." 

We  looked  over  the  parapet.  It  was  even  as 
she  had  said.  Neither  on  ledge  nor  bridge  was 
there  trace  of  living  men  of  Muria — only  heaps  of 
slain  that  lay  everywhere — and  thick  against  the 

409 


410  The  Moon  Pool 

cavern  mouth  still  danced  the  flashing  atoms  of 
those  the  green  ray  had  destroyed. 

"Over!"  exclaimed  Larry  incredulously.  "We 
live  then — heart  of  mine!" 

"The  Silent  Ones  recall  their  veils,"  she  said* 
pointing  to  the  dome.  Back  through  the  slitted 
opening  the  radiance  was  streaming;  withdrawing 
from  sea  and  island ;  marching  back  over  the  bridge 
with  that  same  ordered,  intelligent  motion.  Be 
hind  it  the  red  light  pressed,  like  skirmishers  on 
the  heels  of  a  retreating  army. 

"And  yet — "  faltered  the  handmaiden  as  we 
passed  into  her  chamber,  and  doubtful  were  the 
eyes  she  turned  upon  the  O'Keefe. 

"I  don't  believe,"  he  said,  "  there's  a  kick  left  in 
them " 

What  was  that  sound  beating  into  the  chamber 
faintly,  so  faintly?  My  heart  gave  a  great  throb 
and  seemed  to  stop  for  an  eternity.  What  was  it 
— coming  nearer,  ever  nearer?  Now  Lakla  and 
O'Keefe  heard  it,  life  ebbing  from  lips  and  cheeks. 

Nearer,  nearer — a  music  as  of  myriads  of  tiny 
crystal  bells,  tinkling,  tinkling — a  storm  of  piz- 
zicati  upon  violins  of  glass!  Nearer,  nearer — not 
sweetly  now,  nor  luring;  no — raging,  wrathful, 
sinister  beyond  words;  sweeping  on;  nearer 

The  Dweller!    The  Shining  One! 

We  leaped  to  the  narrow  window;  peered  out, 
aghast.  The  bell  notes  swept  through  and  about 
us,  a  hurricane.  The  crescent  strand  was  once 
more  a  ferment.  Back,  back  were  the  Akka  being 


The  Coming  of  the  Shining  One  41 1 

swept,  as  though  by  brooms,  tottering  on  the  edge 
of  the  ledge,  falling  into  the  waters.  Swiftly  they 
were  finished;  and  where  they  had  fought  was  an 
eddying  throng  clothed  in  tatters  or  naked,  sway 
ing,  drifting,  arms  tossing — like  marionettes  of 
Satan. 

The  dead-alive!    The  slaves  of  the  Dweller! 

They  swayed  and  tossed,  and  then,  like  water 
racing  through  an  opened  dam,  they  swept  upon 
the  bridge-head.  On  and  on  they  pushed,  like 
the  bore  of  a  mighty  tide.  The  frog-men  strove 
against  them,  clubbing,  spearing,  tearing  them. 
But  even  those  worst  smitten  seemed  not  to  fall. 
On  they  pushed,  driving  forward,  irresistible — a 
battering  ram  of  flesh  and  bone.  They  clove  the 
masses  of  the  Akka,  pressing  them  to  the  sides  of 
the  bridge  and  over.  Through  the  open  gates 
they  forced  them — for  there  was  no  room  for  the 
frog-men  to  stand  against  that  implacable  tide. 

Then  those  of  the  Akka  who  were  left  turned 
their  backs  and  ran.  We  heard  the  clang  of  the 
golden  wings  of  the  portal,  and  none  too  soon  to 
keep  out  the  first  of  the  Dweller's  dreadful  hordes. 

Now  upon  the  cavern  ledge  and  over  the  whole 
length  of  the  bridge  there  were  none  but  the 
dead-alive,  men  and  women,  black-polled  ladala, 
sloe-eyed  Malays,  slant-eyed  Chinese,  men  of 
every  race  that  sailed  the  seas — milling,  turning, 
swaying,  like  leaves  caught  in  a  sluggish  current. 

The  bell  notes  became  sharper,  more  insistent. 
At  the  cavern  mouth  a  radiance  began  to  grow — a 


412  The  Moon  Pool 

gleaming  from  which  the  atoms  of  diamond  dust 
seemed  to  try  to  flee.  As  the  radiance  grew  and 
the  crystal  notes  rang  nearer,  every  head  of  that 
hideous  multitude  turned  stiffly,  slowly  toward  the 
right,  looking  toward  the  far  bridge  end ;  their  eyes 
fixed  and  glaring;  every  face  an  inhuman  mask  of 
rapture  and  of  horror ! 

A  movement  shook  them.  Those  in  the  centre 
began  to  stream  back,  faster  and  ever  faster,  leav 
ing  motionless  deep  ranks  on  each  side.  Back 
they  flowed  until  from  golden  doors  to  cavern 
mouth  a  wide  lane  stretched,  walled  on  each  side 
by  the  dead-alive. 

The  far  radiance  became  brighter;  it  gathered 
itself  at  the  end  of  the  dreadful  lane;  it  was  shot 
with  sparklings  and  with  pulsings  of  polychro 
matic  light.  The  crystal  storm  was  intolerable, 
piercing  the  ears  with  countless  tiny  lances; 
brighter  still  the  radiance 

From  the  cavern  swirled  the  Shining  One ! 

The  Dweller  paused,  seemed  to  scan  the  island 
of  the  Silent  Ones  half  doubtfully;  then  slowly, 
stately,  it  drifted  out  upon  the  bridge.  Closer 
it  drew;  behind  it  glided  Yolara  at  the  head  of 
a  company  of  her  dwarfs,  and  at  her  side  was  the 
hag  of  the  Council  whose  face  was  the  withered, 
shattered  echo  of  her  own. 

Slower  grew  the  Dweller's  pace  as  it  drew 
nearer.  Did  I  sense  in  it  a  doubt,  an  uncertainty? 
The  crystal-tongued,  unseen  choristers  that  ac 
companied  it  subtly  seemed  to  reflect  the  doubt; 


The  Coming  of  the  Shining  One  4J3 

their  notes  were  not  sure,  no  longer  insistent; 
rather  was  there  in  them  an  undertone  of  hesitancy, 
of  warning!  Yet  on  came  the  Shining  One  until 
it  stood  plain  beneath  us,  searching  with  those 
eyes  that  thrust  from  and  withdrew  into  unknown 
spheres,  the  golden  gateway,  the  cliff  face,  the 
castle's  rounded  bulk — and  more  intently  than 
any  of  these,  the  dome  wherein  sat  the  Three. 

Behind  it  each  face  of  the  dead-alive  turned 
toward  it,  and  those  beside  it  throbbed  and 
gleamed  with  its  luminescence. 

Yolara  crept  close,  just  beyond  the  reach  of  its 
spirals.  She  murmured — and  the  Dweller  bent 
toward  her,  its  seven  globes  steady  in  their  shin 
ing  mists,  as  though  listening.  It  drew  erect  once 
more,  resumed  its  doubtful  scrutiny.  Yolara 's 
face  darkened;  she  turned  abruptly,  spoke  to  a 
captain  of  her  guards.  A  dwarf  raced  back 
between  the  palisades  of  dead-alive. 

Now  the  priestess  cried  out,  her  voice  ringing 
like  a  silver  clarion. 

"Ye  are  done,  ye  Three!  The  Shining  One 
stands  at  your  door,  demanding  entrance.  Your 
beasts  are  slain  and  your  power  is  gone.  Who  are 
ye,  says  the  Shining  One,  to  deny  it  entrance  to 
the  place  of  its  birth?" 

"Ye  do  not  answer,"  she  cried  again,  "yet 
know  we  that  ye  hear!  The  Shining  One  offers 
these  terms:  Send  forth  your  handmaiden  and 
that  lying  stranger  she  stole;  send  them  forth 
to  us — and  perhaps  ye  may  live.  But  if  ye 


The  Moon  Pool 

send  them  not  forth,  then  shall  ye  too  die — and 
soon!" 

We  waited,  silent,  even  as  did  Yolara — and 
again  there  was  no  answer  from  the  Three. 

The  priestess  laughed;  the  blue  eyes  flashed. 

"  It  is  ended ! ' '  she  cried.  ' '  If  you  will  not  open, 
needs  must  we  open  for  you!" 

Over  the  bridge  was  marching  a  long  double 
file  of  the  dwarfs.  They  bore  a  smoothed  and 
handled  tree-trunk  whose  head  was  knobbed  with 
a  huge  ball  of  metal.  Past  the  priestess,  past  the 
Shining  One,  they  carried  it;  fifty  of  them  to 
each  side  of  the  ram;  and  behind  them  stepped 
— Marakinoff! 

Larry  awoke  to  life. 

"Now,  thank  God,"  he  rasped,  "I  can  get  that 
devil,  anyway!" 

He  drew  his  pistol,  took  careful  aim.  Even 
as  he  pressed  the  trigger  there  rang  through  the 
abode  a  tremendous  clanging.  The  ram  was 
battering  at  the  gates.  O'Keefe's  bullet  went 
wild.  The  Russian  must  have  heard  the  shot; 
perhaps  the  missile  was  closer  than  we  knew.  He 
made  a  swift  leap  behind  the  guards;  was  lost  to 
sight. 

Once  more  the  thunderous  clanging  rang 
through  the  castle. 

Lakla  drew  herself  erect ;  down  upon  her  dropped 
the  listening  aloofness.  Gravely  she  bowed  her 
head. 

"It  is  time,  O  love  of  mine."     She  turned  to 


The  Coming  of  the  Shining  One  4J5 

O'Keefe.  "The  Silent  Ones  say  that  the  way  of 
fear  is  closed,  but  the  way  of  love  is  open.  They 
call  upon  us  to  redeem  our  promise!" 

For  a  hundred  heart-beats  they  clung  to  each 
other,  breast  to  breast  and  lip  to  lip.  Below,  the 
clangour  was  increasing,  the  great  trunk  swinging 
harder  and  faster  upon  the  metal  gates.  Now 
Lakla  gently  loosed  the  arms  of  the  O'Keefe,  and 
for  another  instant  those  two  looked  into  each 
other's  souls.  The  handmaiden  smiled  tremulously. 

"I  would  it  might  have  been  otherwise,  Larry 
darlin',"  she  whispered.  "But  at  least — we  pass 
together,  dearest  of  mine!" 

She  leaped  to  the  window. 

"Yolara!"  the  golden  voice  rang  out  sweetly. 
The  clanging  ceased.  "Draw  back  your  men. 
We  open  the  Portal  and  come  forth  to  you  and  the 
Shining  One — Larry  and  I." 

The  priestess's  silver  chimes  of  laughter  rang 
out,  cruel,  mocking. 

"Come,  then,  and  quickly,"  she  jeered.  "For 
surely  both  the  Shining  One  and  I  yearn  for  you!" 
Her  malice-laden  laughter  chimed  high  once  more. 
"Keep  us  not  lonely  long!"  the  priestess  mocked. 

Larry  drew  a  deep  breath,  stretched  both  hands 
out  to  me. 

"It's  good-by,  I  guess,  Doc."  His  voice  was 
strained.  "Good-by  and  good  luck,  old  boy.  If 
you  get  out,  and  you  will,  let  the  old  Dolphin 
know  I'm  gone.  And  carry  on,  pal — and  always 
remember  the  O'Keefe  loved  you  like  a  brother." 


4i 6  The  Moon  Pool 

I  squeezed  his  hands  desperately.  Then  out 
of  my  balance-shaking  woe  a  strange  comfort  was 
born. 

"Maybe  it's  not  good-by,  Larry!"  I  cried. 
"The  banshee  has  not  cried!" 

A  flash  of  hope  passed  over  his  face;  the  old 
reckless  grin  shone  forth. 

"It's  so!"  he  said.     "By  the  Lord,  it's  so!" 

Then  Lakla  bent  toward  me,  and  for  the  second 
time — kissed  me. 

"Come!"  she  said  to  Larry.  Hand  in  hand 
they  moved  away,  into  the  corridor  that  led  to 
the  door  outside  of  which  waited  the  Shining  One 
and  its  priestess. 

And  unseen  by  them,  wrapped  as  they  were 
within  their  love  and  sacrifice,  I  crept  softly 
behind.  For  I  had  determined  that  if  enter  the 
Dweller's  embrace  they  must,  they  should  not  go 
alone. 

They  paused  before  the  Golden  Portals;  the 
handmaiden  pressed  its  opening  lever;  the  massive 
•leaves  rolled  back. 

Heads  high,  proudly,  serenely,  they  passed 
through  and  out  upon  the  hither  span.  I  followed. 

On  each  side  of  us  stood  the  Dweller's  slaves, 
faces  turned  rigidly  toward  their  master.  A 
hundred  feet  away  the  Shining  One  pulsed  and 
spiralled  in  its  evilly  glorious  lambency  of  sparkling 
plumes. 

Unhesitating,  always  with  that  same  high  seren 
ity,  Lakla  and  the  O'Keefe,  hands  clasped  like 


The  Coming  of  the  Shining  One  41 7 

little  children,  drew  closer  to  that  wondrous  shape. 
I  could  not  see  their  faces,  but  I  saw  awe  fall  upon 
those  of  the  watching  dwarfs,  and  into  the  burning 
eyes  of  Yolara  crept  a  doubt.  Closer  they  drew 
to  the  Dweller,  and  closer,  I  following  them  step 
by  step.  The  Shining  One's  whirling  lessened; 
its  tinklings  were  faint,  almost  stilled.  It  seemed 
to  watch  them  apprehensively.  A  silence  fell 
upon  us  all,  a  thick  silence,  brooding,  ominous, 
palpable.  Now  the  pair  were  face  to  face  with  the 
child  of  the  Three — so  near  that  with  one  of  its 
misty  tentacles  it  could  have  enfolded  them. 

And  the  Shining  One  drew  back ! 

Yes,  drew  back — and  back  with  it  stepped 
Yolara,  the  doubt  in  her  eyes  deepening.  On 
ward  paced  the  handmaiden  and  the  O'Keefe — 
and  step  by  step,  as  they  advanced,  the  Dweller 
withdrew;  its  bell  notes  chiming  out,  puzzled, 
questioning— half  fearful ! 

And  back  it  drew,  and  back  until  it  had  reached 
the  very  centre  of  that  platform  over  the  abyss 
in  whose  depths  pulsed  the  green  fires  of  earth 
heart.  And  there  Yolara  gripped  herself;  the  hell 
that  seethed  within  her  soul  leaped  out  of  her  eyes; 
a  cry,  a  shriek  of  rage,  tore  from  her  lips. 

As  at  a  signal,  the  Shining  One  flamed  high; 
its  spirals  and  eddying  mists  swirled  madly,  the 
pulsing  core  of  it  blazed  radiance.  A  score  of 
coruscating  tentacles  swept  straight  upon  the  pair 
who  stood  intrepid,  unresisting,  awaiting  its  em 
brace.  And  upon  me,  lurking  behind  them. 


4i  8  The  Moon  Pool 

Through  me  swept  a  mighty  exaltation.  It 
was  the  end  then — and  I  was  to  meet  it  with 
them. 

Something  drew  us  back,  back  with  an  incredible 
swiftness,  and  yet  as  gently  as  a  summer  breeze 
sweeps  a  bit  of  thistledown!  Drew  us  back  from 
those  darting  misty  arms  even  as  they  were  a  hair 
breadth  from  us !  I  heard  the  Dweller's  bell  notes 
burst  out  ragingly;  I  heard  Yolara  scream. 

What  was  that? 

Between  the  three  of  us  and  them  was  a  ring 
of  curdled  moon  flames,  swirling  about  the  Shining 
One  and  its  priestess,  pressing  in  upon  them, 
enfolding  them ! 

And  within  it  I  glimpsed  the  faces  of  the  Three 
— implacable,  sorrowful,  rilled  with  a  supernal 
power! 

Sparks  and  flashes  of  white  flame  darted  from 
the  ring,  penetrating  the  radiant  swathings  of  the 
Dweller,  striking  through  its  pulsing  nucleus, 
piercing  its  seven  crowning  orbs. 

Now  the  Shining  One's  radiance  began  to  dim, 
the  seven  orbs  to  dull ;  the  tiny  sparkling  filaments 
that  ran  from  them  down  into  the  Dweller's 
body  snapped,  vanished!  Through  the  battling 
nebulosities  Yolara 's  face  swam  forth — horror- 
filled,  distorted,  inhuman! 

The  ranks  of  the  dead-alive  quivered,  moved, 
writhed,  as  though  each  felt  the  torment  of  the 
Thing  that  had  enslaved  them.  The  radiance 
that  the  Three  wielded  grew  more  intense,  thicker, 


The  Coming  of  the  Shining  One  4J9 

seemed  to  expand.  Within  it,  suddenly,  were 
scores  of  flaming  triangles — scores  of  eyes  like 
those  of  the  Silent  Ones! 

And  the  Shining  One's  seven  little  moons  of 
amber,  of  silver,  of  blue  and  amethyst  and  green, 
of  rose  and  white,  split,  shattered,  were  gonef 
Abruptly  the  tortured  crystal  chimings  ceased. 

Dulled,  all  its  soul-shaking  beauty  dead,  blotched 
and  shadowed  squalidly,  its  gleaming  plumes 
tarnished,  its  dancing  spirals  stripped  from  it, 
that  which  had  been  the  Shining  One  wrapped 
itself  about  Yolara — wrapped  and  drew  her  inta 
itself;  writhed,  swayed,  and  hurled  itself  over  the 
edge  of  the  bridge — down,  down  into  the  green 
fires  of  the  unfathomable  abyss — with  its  priestess, 
still  enfolded  in  its  coils ! 

From  the  dwarfs  who  had  watched  that  terror 
came  screams  of  panic  fear.  They  turned  and 
ran,  racing  frantically  over  the  bridge  toward  the 
cavern  mouth. 

The  serried  ranks  of  the  dead-alive  trembled, 
shook.  Then  from  their  faces  fled  the  horror 
of  wedded  ecstasy  and  anguish.  Peace,  utter 
peace,  followed  in  its  wake. 

And  as  fields  of  wheat  are  bent  and  fall  beneath 
the  wind,  they  fell.  No  longer  dead-alive,  now 
all  of  the  blessed  dead,  freed  from  their  dreadful 
slavery ! 

Abruptly  from  the  sparkling  mists  the  cloud 
of  eyes  was  gone.  Faintly  revealed  in  them  were 
only  the  heads  of  the  Silent  Ones.  And  they 


420  The  Moon  Pool 

drew  before  us;  were  before  us!  No  flames  now 
in  their  ebon  eyes — for  the  flickering  fires  were 
quenched  in  great  tears,  streaming  down  the 
marble  white  faces.  They  bent  toward  us,  over 
us;  their  radiance  enfolded  us.  My  eyes  dark 
ened.  I  could  not  see.  I  felt  a  tender  hand  upon 
my  head — and  panic  and  frozen  dread  and  night 
mare  web  that  held  me  fled. 

Then  they,  too,  were  gone. 

Upon  Larry's  breast  the  handmaiden  was 
sobbing — sobbing  out  her  heart — but  this  time 
with  the  joy  of  one  who  is  swept  up  from  the  very 
threshold  of  hell  into  paradise. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 
'  'LARRY — FAREWELL  !' ' 

' '  MY  heart,  Larry — ' '  It  was  the  handmaiden's 
murmur.  "My  heart  feels  like  a  bird  that  is 
flying  from  a  nest  of  sorrow." 

We  were  pacing  down  the  length  of  the  bridge, 
guards  of  the  Akka  beside  us,  others  following 
with  those  companies  of  the  ladala  that  had  rushed 
to  aid  us ;  in  front  of  us  the  bandaged  Rador  swung 
gently  within  a  litter;  beside  him,  in  another,  lay 
Nak,  the  frog-king — much  less  of  him  than  there 
had  been  before  the  battle  began,  but  living. 

Hours  had  passed  since  the  terror  I  have  just 
related.  My  first  task  had  been  to  search  for 
Throckmartin  and  his  wife  among  the  fallen 
multitudes  strewn  thick  as  autumn  leaves  along 
the  flying  arch  of  stone,  over  the  cavern  ledge,  and 
back,  back  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach. 

At  last,  Lakla  and  Larry  helping,  we  found 
them.  They  lay  close  to  the  bridge-end,  not 
parted — locked  tight  in  each  other's  arms,  pallid 
face  to  face,  her  hair  streaming  over  his  breast! 
As  though  when  that  unearthly  life  the  Dweller 
had  set  within  them  passed  away,  their  own  had 

421 


422  The  Moon  Pool 

come  back  for  one  fleeting  instant — and  they  had 
known  each  other,  and  clasped  before  kindly 
death  had  taken  them. 

"Love  is  stronger  than  all  things."  The  hand 
maiden  was  weeping  softly.  "Love  never  left 
them.  Love  was  stronger  than  the  Shining  One. 
And  when  its  evil  fled,  love  went  with  them — 
wherever  souls  go." 

Of  Stanton  and  Thora  there  was  no  trace;  nor, 
after  our  discovery  of  those  other  two,  did  I  care 
to  look  more.  They  were  dead — and  they  were 
free. 

We  buried  Throckmartin  and  Edith  beside 
Olaf  in  Lakla's  bower.  But  before  the  body  of  my 
old  friend  was  placed  within  the  grave  I  gave  it  a 
careful  and  sorrowful  examination.  The  skin  was 
firm  and  smooth,  but  cold;  not  the  cold  of  death, 
but  with  a  chill  that  set  my  touching  fingers 
tingling  unpleasantly.  The  body  was  bloodless; 
the  course  of  veins  and  arteries  marked  by  faintly 
indented  white  furrows,  as  though  their  walls  had 
long  collapsed.  Lips,  mouth,  even  the  tongue, 
was  paper  white.  There  was  no  sign  of  dissolution 
as  we  know  it ;  no  shadow  or  stain  upon  the  marble 
surface.  Whatever  the  force  that,  streaming 
from  the  Dweller  or  impregnating  its  lair,  had 
energized  the  dead-alive,  it  was  barrier  against 
putrescence  of  any  kind;  that  at  least  was  certain. 

But  it  was  not  barrier  against  the  poison  of  the 
Medusae,  for,  our  sad  task  done,  and  looking  down 
upon  the  waters,  I  saw  the  pale  forms  of  the 


"Larry — Farewell!"  423 

Dweller's  hordes  dissolving,  vanishing  into  the 
shifting  glories  of  the  gigantic  moons  sailing  down 
upon  them  from  every  quarter  of  the  Sea  of 
Crimson. 

While  the  frog-men,  those  late  levies  from  the 
farthest  forests,  were  clearing  bridge  and  ledge  of 
cavern  of  the  litter  of  the  dead,  we  listened  to  a 
leader  of  the  ladala.  They  had  risen,  even  as  the 
messenger  had  promised  Rador.  Fierce  had 
been  the  struggle  in  the  gardened  city  by  the  silver 
waters  with  those  Lugur  and  Yolara  had  left 
behind  to  garrison  it.  Deadly  had  been  the 
slaughter  of  the  fair-haired,  reaping  the  harvest 
of  hatred  they  had  been  sowing  so  long.  Not 
without  a  pang  of  regret  did  I  think  of  the  beauti 
ful,  gaily  malicious  elfin  women  destroyed — evil 
though  they  may  have  been. 

The  ancient  city  of  Lara  was  a  charnel.  Of  all 
the  rulers  not  twoscore  had  escaped,  and  these 
into  regions  of  peril  which  to  describe  as  sanctuary 
would  be  mockery.  Nor  had  the  ladala  fared 
so  well.  Of  all  the  men  and  women,  for  women  as 
well  as  men  had  taken  their  part  in  the  swift  war, 
not  more  than  a  tenth  remained  alive. 

And  the  dancing  motes  of  light  in  the  silver  air 
were  thick,  thick — they  whispered. 

They  told  us  of  the  Shining  One  rushing  through 
the  Veil,  comet  like,  its  hosts  streaming  behind  it, 
raging  with  it,  in  ranks  that  seemed  interminable  1 

Of  the  massacre  of  the  priests  and  priestesses  in 
the  Cyclopean  temple ;  of  the  flashing  forth  of  the 


424  The  Moon  Pool 

summoning  lights  by  unseen  hands — followed  by 
the  tearing  of  the  rainbow  curtain,  by  colossal 
shatterings  of  the  radiant  cliffs;  the  vanishing 
behind  their  debris  of  all  trace  of  entrance  to 
the  haunted  place  wherein  the  hordes  of  the  Shin 
ing  One  had  slaved — the  sealing  of  the  lair! 

Then,  when  the  tempest  of  hate  had  ended  in 
seething  Lara,  how,  thrilled  with  victory,  armed 
with  the  weapons  of  those  they  had  slain,  they  had 
lifted  the  Shadow,  passed  through  the  Portal,  met 
and  slaughtered  the  fleeing  remnants  of  Yolara's 
men — only  to  find  the  tempest  stilled  here,  too. 

But  of  Marakinoff  they  had  seen  nothing !  Had 
the  Russian  escaped,  I  wondered,  or  was  he  lying 
out  there  among  the  dead? 

But  now  the  ladala  were  calling  upon  Lakla  to 
come  with  them,  to  govern  them. 

"I  don't  want  to,  Larry  darlin',"  she  told  him. 
"I  want  to  go  out  with  you  to  Ireland.  But  for  a 
time — I  think  the  Three  would  have  us  remain 
and  set  that  place  in  order." 

The  O'Keefe  was  bothered  about  something 
else  than  the  government  of  Muria. 

"If  they've  killed  off  all  the  priests,  who's  to 
marry  us,  heart  of  mine?"  he  worried.  "None  of 
those  Siya  and  Siyana  rites,  no  matter  what," 
he  added  hastily. 

"Marry!"  cried  the  handmaiden  incredulously. 
"Marry  us?  Why,  Larry  dear,  we  are  married!" 

The  O'Keefe's  astonishment  was  complete;  his 
jaw  dropped;  collapse  seemed  imminent. 


"Larry — Farewell!"  425 

"We  are?"  he  gasped.  "When?"  he  stam 
mered  fatuously. 

"Why,  when  the  Mother  drew  us  togethei 
before  her;  when  she  put  her  hands  on  our  heads 
after  we  had  made  the  promise!  Didn't  you 
understand  that?"  asked  the  handmaiden  won- 
deringly. 

He  looked  at  her,  into  the  purity  of  the  clear 
golden  eyes,  into  the  purity  of  the  soul  that  gazed 
out  of  them;  all  his  own  great  love  transfiguring 
his  keen  face. 

"An"  is  that  enough  for  you,  mavourneen?"  he 
whispered  humbly. 

"Enough?"  The  handmaiden's  puzzlement 
was  complete,  profound.  "Enough!  Larry  dar- 
lin',  what  more  could  we  ask?" 

He  drew  a  deep  breath,  clasped  her  close. 

"Kiss  the  bride,  Doc!"  cried  the  O'Keefe. 
And  for  the  third  and,  soul's  sorrow!  the  last 
time,  Lakla  dimpling  and  blushing,  I  thrilled  to  the 
touch  of  her  soft,  sweet  lips. 

Quickly  were  our  preparations  for  departure 
made.  Rador,  conscious,  his  immense  vitality 
conquering  fast  his  wounds,  was  to  be  borne 
ahead  of  us.  And  when  all  was  done,  Lakla, 
Larry,  and  I  made  our  way  up  to  the  scarlet  stone 
that  was  the  doorway  to  the  chamber  of  the  Three. 
We  knew,  of  course,  that  they  had  gone,  following, 
no  doubt,  those  whose  eyes  I  had  seen  in  the 
curdled  mists,  and  who,  coming  to  the  aid  of  the 
Three  at  last  from  whatever  mysterious  place  that 


426  The  Moon  Pool 

was  their  home,  had  thrown  their  strength  with 
them  against  the  Shining  One.  Nor  were  we 
wrong.  When  the  great  slab  rolled  away,  no 
torrents  of  opalescence  came  rushing  out  upon 
us.  The  vast  dome  was  dim,  tenantless ;  its  curved 
walls  that  had  cascaded  light  shone  now  but 
faintly ;  the  dais  was  empty ;  its  wall  of  moon-flame 
radiance  gone. 

A  little  time  we  stood,  heads  bent,  reverent, 
our  hearts  filled  with  gratitude  and  love — yes, 
and  with  pity  for  that  strange  trinity  so  alien  to 
us  and  yet  so  near ;  children  even  as  we,  though  so 
unlike  us,  of  our  same  Mother  Earth. 

And  what  I  wondered  had  been  the  secret  of 
that  promise  they  had  wrung  from  their  hand 
maiden  and  from  Larry.  And  whence,  if  what  the 
Three  had  said  had  been  all  true — whence  had 
come  their  power  to  avert  the  sacrifice  at  the  very 
verge  of  its  consummation  ? 

"Love  is  stronger  than  all  things!"  had  said 
Lakla. 

Was  it  that  they  had  needed,  must  have,  the 
force  which  dwells  within  love,  within  willing 
sacrifice,  to  strengthen  their  own  power  and  to 
enable  them  to  destroy  the  evil,  glorious  Thing  so 
long  shielded  by  their  own  love?  Did  the  thought 
of  sacrifice,  the  will  toward  abnegation,  have  to 
be  as  strong  as  the  eternals,  unshaken  by  faintest 
thrill  of  hope,  before  the  Three  could  make  of  it 
their  key  to  unlock  the  Dweller's  guard  and  strike 
through  at  its  life" 


"Larry — Farewell!"  427 

Here  was  a  mystery — a  mystery  indeed!  Lakla 
softly  closed  the  crimson  stone.  The  mystery  of 
the  red  dwarf's  appearance  was  explained  when  we 
discovered  a  half-dozen  of  the  water  coria  moored 
in  a  small  cove  not  far  from  where  the  Sekta 
flashed  their  heads  of  living  bloom.  The  dwarfs 
had  borne  the  shallops  with  them,  and  from 
somewhere  beyond  the  cavern  ledge  had  launched 
them  unperceived;  stealing  up  to  the  farther  side 
of  the  island  and  risking  all  in  one  bold  stroke. 
Well,  Lugur,  no  matter  what  he  held  of  wicked 
ness,  held  also  high  courage. 

The  cavern  was  paved  with  the  dead-alive,  the 
Akka  carrying  them  out  by  the  hundreds,  casting 
them  into  the  waters.  Through  the  lane  down 
which  the  Dweller  had  passed  we  went  as  quickly 
as  we  could,  coming  at  last  to  the  space  where  the 
coria  waited.  And  not  long  after  we  swung  past 
where  the  shadow  had  hung  and  hovered  over  the 
shining  depths  of  the  Midnight  Pool. 

Upon  Lakla's  insistence  we  passed  on  to  the 
palace  of  Lugur,  not  to  Yolara's — I  do  not  know 
why,  but  go  there  then  she  would  not.  And 
within  one  of  its  columned  rooms,  maidens  of  the 
black-haired  folks,  the  wistfulness,  the  fear,  all 
gone  from  their  sparkling  eyes,  served  us. 

There  came  to  me  a  huge  desire  to  see  the 
destruction  they  had  told  us  of  the  Dweller's  lair; 
to  observe  for  myself  whether  it  was  not  pos 
sible  to  make  a  way  of  entrance  and  to  study  its 
mysteries. 


428  The  Moon  Pool 

I  spoke  of  this,  and  to  my  surprise  both  the 
handmaiden  and  the  O'Keefe  showed  an  almost 
embarrassed  haste  to  acquiesce  in  my  hesitant 
suggestion. 

"Sure,"  cried  Larry,  "there's  lots  of  time 
before  night !" 

He  caught  himself  sheepishly;  cast  a  glance  at 
Lakla. 

"I  keep  forgettin'  there's  no  night  here,"  he 
mumbled. 

"What  did  you  say,  Larry?"  asked  she. 

"I  said  I  wish  we  were  sitting  in  our  home  in 
Ireland,  watching  the  sun  go  down,  "  he  whispered 
to  her.  Vaguely  I  wondered  why  she  blushed. 

But  now  I  must  hasten.  We  went  to  the 
temple;  and  here  at  least  the  ghastly  litter  of  the 
dead  had  been  cleaned  away.  We  passed  through 
the  blue-caverned  space,  crossed  the  narrow  arch 
that  spanned  the  rushing  sea  stream,  and,  ascend 
ing,  stood  again  upon  the  ivoried  pave  at  the 
foot  of  the  frowning,  towering  amphitheatre  of 
jet. 

Across  the  Silver  Waters  there  was  sign  of  neither 
Web  of  Rainbows  nor  colossal  pillars  nor  the  templed 
lips  that  I  had  seen  curving  out  beneath  the  Veil 
when  the  Shining  One  had  swirled  out  to  greet  its 
priestess  and  its  voice  and  to  dance  with  the  sac 
rifices.  There  was  but  a  broken  and  rent  mass 
of  the  radiant  cliffs  against  whose  base  the  lake 
lapped. 

Long   I   looked — and   turned   away   saddened. 


"Larry — Farewell!"  429 

Knowing  even  as  I  did  what  the  irised  curtain 
had  hidden,  still  it  was  as  though  some  thing  of 
supernal  beauty  and  wonder  had  been  swept 
away,  never  to  be  replaced;  a  glamour  gone  for 
ever;  a  work  of  the  high  gods  destroyed. 

"Let's  go  back,"  said  Larry  abruptly. 

I  dropped  a  little  behind  them  to  examine  a  bit 
of  carving — and,  after  all,  they  did  not  want  me. 
I  watched  them  pacing  slowly  ahead,  his  arm 
around  her,  black  hair  close  to  bronze-gold  ring 
lets.  Then  I  followed.  Half  were  they  over  the 
bridge  when  through  the  roar  of  the  imprisoned 
stream  I  heard  my  name  called  softly. 

"Goodwin!     Dr.  Goodwin!" 

Amazed,  I  turned.  From  behind  the  pedestal 
of  a  carved  group  slunk — Marakinoff!  My  pre 
monition  had  been  right.  Some  way  he  had 
escaped,  slipped  through  to  here.  He  held  his 
hands  high,  came  forward  cautiously. 

"I  am  finished,"  he  whispered — "Done!  I 
don't  know  what  they'll  do  to  me."  He  nodded 
toward  the  handmaiden  and  Larry,  now  at  the 
end  of  the  bridge  and  passing  on,  oblivious  of  all 
save  each  other.  He  drew  closer.  His  eyes  were 
sunken,  burning,  mad;  his  face  etched  with  deep 
lines,  as  though  a  graver's  tool  had  cut  down 
through  it.  I  took  a  step  backward. 

A  grin,  like  the  grimace  of  a  fiend,  blasted  the 
Russian's  visage.  He  threw  himself  upon  me,  his 
hands  clenching  at  my  throat! 

"Larry!"  I  yelled — and  as  I  spun  around  under 


430  The  Moon  Pool 

the  shock  of  his  onslaught,  saw  the  two  turn, 
stand  paralyzed,  then  race  toward  me. 

"But  you'll  carry  nothing  out  of  here!"  shrieked 
Marakinoff.  "No!" 

My  foot,  darting  out  behind  me,  touched  va 
cancy.  The  roaring  of  the  racing  stream  deaf 
ened  me.  I  felt  its  mists  about  me ;  threw  myself 
forward. 

I  was  falling — falling — with  the  Russian's  hands 
strangling  me.  I  struck  water,  sank;  the  hands 
that  gripped  my  throat  relaxed  for  a  moment  their 
clutch.  I  strove  to  writhe  loose;  felt  that  I  was 
being  hurled  with  dreadful  speed  on — full  realiza 
tion  came — on  the  breast  of  that  racing  torrent 
dropping  from  some  far  ocean  cleft  and  rushing — 
where?  A  little  time,  a  few  breathless  instants,  I 
struggled  with  the  devil  who  clutched  me — 
inflexibly,  indomitably. 

Then  a  shrieking  as  of  all  the  pent  winds  of  the 
universe  in  my  ears — blackness ! 

Consciousness  returned  slowly,  agonizedly. 

"Larry!"  I  groaned.     "Lakla!" 

A  brilliant  light  was  glowing  through  my  closed 
lids.  It  hurt.  I  opened  my  eyes,  closed  them 
with  swords  and  needles  of  dazzling  pain  shooting 
through  them.  Again  I  opened  them  cautiously. 
It  was  the  sun ! 

I  staggered  to  my  feet.  Behind  me  was  a 
shattered  wall  of  basalt  monoliths,  hewn  and 
squared.  Before  me  was  the  Pacific,  smooth 
and  blue  and  smiling. 


"Larry —  Farewell !"  43 l 

And  not  far  away,  cast  up  on  the  strand  even 
as  I  had  been,  was — Marakinoff! 

He  lay  there,  broken  and  dead  indeed.  Yet  all 
the  waters  through  which  we  had  passed — not 
even  the  waters  of  death  themselves — could  wash 
from  his  face  the  grin  of  triumph.  With  the  last 
of  my  strength  I  dragged  the  body  from  the 
strand  and  pushed  it  out  into  the  waves.  A 
little  billow  ran  up,  coiled  about  it,  and  carried 
it  away,  ducking  and  bending.  Another  seized 
it,  and  another,  playing  with  it.  It  floated  from 
my  sight — that  which  had  been  Marakinoff, 
with  all  his  schemes  to  turn  our  fair  world  into  an 
undreamed-of  hell. 

My  strength  began  to  come  back  to  me.  I 
found  a  thicket  and  slept ;  slept  it  must  have  been 
for  many  hours,  for  when  I  again  awakened  the 
dawn  was  rosing  the  east.  I  will  not  tell  my 
sufferings.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  I  found  a  spring 
and  some  fruit,  and  just  before  dusk  had  recovered 
enough  to  writhe  up  to  the  top  of  the  wall  and 
discover  where  I  was. 

The  place  was  one  of  the  farther  islets  of  the 
Nan-Matal.  To  the  north  I  caught  the  shadow 
of  the  ruins  of  Nan-Tauach,  where  was  the  moon 
door,  black  against  the  sky.  Where  was  the 
moon  door — which,  someway,  somehow,  I  must 
reach,  and  quickly! 

At  dawn  of  the  next  day  I  got  together  drift* 
wood  and  bound  it  together  in  shape  of  a  rough 
raft  with  fallen  creepers.  Then,  with  a  make- 


432  The  Moon  Pool 

shift  paddle,  I  set  forth  for  Nan-Tauach.  Slowly, 
painfully,  I  crept  up  to  it.  It  was  late  afternoon 
before  I  grounded  my  shaky  craft  on  the  little 
beach  between  the  ruined  sea-gates  and,  creeping 
up  the  giant  steps,  made  my  way  to  the  inner 
enclosure. 

And  at  its  opening  I  stopped,  and  the  tears 
ran  streaming  down  my  cheeks  while  I  wept 
aloud  with  sorrow  and  with  disappointment  and 
with  weariness. 

For  the  great  wall  in  which  had  been  set  the 
pale  slab  whose  threshold  we  had  crossed  to  the 
land  of  the  Shining  One  lay  shattered  and  broken. 
The  monoliths  were  heaped  about;  the  wall  had 
fallen,  and  about  them  shone  a  film  of  water,  half 
covering  them. 

There  was  no  moon  door! 

Dazed  and  weeping,  I  drew  closer,  climbed 
upon  their  outlying  fragments.  I  looked  out  only 
upon  sea.  There  had  been  a  great  subsidence,  an 
earth  shock  perhaps,  tilting  downward  all  that  side 
— the  echo,  little  doubt,  of  that  cataclysm  which 
had  blasted  the  Dweller's  lair! 

The  little  squared  islet  called  Tau,  in  which  were 
hidden  the  seven  globes,  had  entirely  disappeared. 
Upon  the  waters  there  was  no  trace  of  it. 

The  moon  door  was  gone;  the  passage  to  the 
Moon  Pool  was  closed  to  me — its  chamber  covered 
by  the  sea ! 

There  was  no  road  to  Larry — nor  to  Lakla! 

And  there,  for  me,  the  world  ended. 
(The  End] 


from  which  It  was  borrowed. 


:LES 


i4280 


UCLA-College  Library 

PS  3525  M55m 


L  005  728  417  6 


Pi 

3525 


